


The Coveted

by CyberQueens



Series: To Be a Bird of Prey [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Birds of Prey - freeform, Female Friendship, Female-Centric, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 14:49:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3573686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyberQueens/pseuds/CyberQueens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the cat's away, the mice will play. Except the mice don't necessarily know the cat's away – and that was, essentially, exactly the problem.</p><p>Part Two of the <i>To Be a Bird of Prey</i> series. Canon-compliant until 2.05.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **EDIT (19/03/2015)** : This is essentially a copy/paste of the note added to the first part, so skip accordingly
> 
> Just a little housekeeping, since my er - _organizational_ plans for this story have changed in the like, _year_ since I started writing it (God I'm slow), so I'm breaking it down into more, smaller parts. Basically, all the sub-parts will be (re)posted as separate parts within the series, all still found under the 'To Be a Bird of Prey' series link (thank all the gods for Ao3's system). It'll be much cleaner, neater, and less headache-inducing for all of us.
> 
> P.S. If this is the first time you're reading this story, then disregard this note.
> 
>  **TL;DR:** This is what used to be sub-part number 2 in Origins.

_Chapter One_

 

She'd thought nothing could possibly top the Undertaking.

Turns out, she was wrong.

The thing was, they hadn't seen it coming – any of it. One day, they were just doing their thing, she was hacking video feeds, Oliver was sharpening arrows in-between nursing a semi-functional teacher-pupil relationship with Roy while never taking off his hood, and Diggle was mostly just despairing over it all – and then, next thing they knew, all hell was breaking loose.

Another thing Felicity had learned – if Oliver thought people were dead, there was every chance they were actually alive and kicking.

First, the Dark Archer had risen from the shadows. And he was crazier than ever. He'd gone after Thea – who, as it happened, was his daughter. Not that that had been a surprise for the team when Malcolm Merlyn had dropped back onto the map, though it had been a shocker when it was first uncovered – it had been a surprise for Thea, though. Big, huge, crippling surprise.

And while Oliver was challenging the Dark Archer for a rematch, they'd been blindsided by another ghost from his past.

Felicity had first heard the name Slade Wilson in a throwaway line about the island from Oliver – just an innocuous slip of his tongue that he immediately looked like he wanted to take back. Well, in front of her, anyway – she knew he'd shared some of it with Diggle. But she had known one thing: Slade Wilson was _dead_.

Recently, however, she had learned that he was _not_ dead, had an affinity for swords and a two-faced mask, as well as an unquenchable desire to get revenge on Oliver. Now, the reasons behind his hatred – _those_ had been unexpected. While she'd been on her knees and with her hands behind her back on the cold QC floor, she'd heard more about the island from Slade Wilson than she ever had from Oliver himself; Shado and Sara, and one Dr. Anthony Ivo, and a fateful bullet to the head, directed by an even more fateful choice on Oliver's part – or so Slade had said. Then, there was the story behind the eye-patch – well, he hadn't actually _told_ her that one per se. She had just connected the dots. She'd been on Lian Yu; she'd seen the mask on the beach. The mask like the one Slade wore; the mask with an arrow driven through its eye. So, no, Slade hadn't told her about that one; she'd just figured it out. She'd heard everything else from him, though.

And she hadn't been the only one.

Laurel Lance had heard it all, too, from where she was right next to Felicity on the cold ground – and that particular staging, Felicity had learned, was a form of callback to island happenings; Slade had wanted Oliver to make a choice this time, too.

Things hadn't exactly gone according to _that_ plan. Oliver had shown up, of course, no hood and no mask – and Felicity personally considered it a silver lining that his second identity had been kept under wraps from Laurel; it was probably an incredible stroke of luck that Slade hadn't had the chance to tell _that_ tale as well.

She and Laurel, however, had been waiting for their stroke of death.

Felicity hadn't doubted for a second that Slade would kill them both, once the curtain closed on his little play. It was about suffering, and mind games, and guilt – payback for what he called Oliver's sins.

It all became somewhat of a blur at one point, actually. She remembered the voices; Slade's angry, taunting one, and Oliver's loud shouting followed by his quieter attempts at reasoning. She remembered how they had made her head pound along with the rush of blood in her ears; she couldn't remember the words, though. And she remembered hearing Laurel grit her teeth and growl, she remembered her muttering, too; she remembered seeing her close her eyes and shake from anger, and she remembered wanting to ask her if she was okay. She didn't know what she remembered after that.

Next thing she knew, Laurel's was screaming off the top of her lungs; a deep, drawn-out scream that had scrambled Felicity's mind. It had _hurt_ to hear the scream.

She knew she had toppled over, away from the pain the scream made her feel, and she knew she had heard glass shattering all around her. She'd been told more about what had happened later than she actually remembered – all that she really did remember was the throbbing in her head.

Oliver had jumped at Slade, and there was some struggle, and then they had both gone out the window. Oliver had climbed back, and Felicity knew he had cut his palms open on the ledge because she had bloody streaks on her cheeks afterwards. And after it was all said and done, Slade was nowhere to be found, dead or alive.

Laurel didn't speak to Oliver. She didn't speak to anyone, actually.

Thea wasn't speaking to him, either. Or to their mother. Not after learning what they'd kept from her. But the return of the Dark Archer had been, in a way, anticlimactic. Though that hadn't made it any less bloody. He'd made his presence known again, taken Thea, but when Oliver had come for him, bow at the ready, he'd run away. Just gone as quickly as he'd come. No one knew why. And while Oliver had searched then waited, a two-block radius of the Glades had gone up in flames, raising Malcolm Merlyn's body count to five hundred and seventy. They hadn't seen that coming either. And much like Slade Wilson, Malcolm Merlyn was nowhere to be found now.

So, Felicity concluded, all in all, things were _bad_.

Just like they had been after the quake, even if it was in another way. Things were different now, though. She, Digg and Oliver were a team now, an actual team – with Roy as an honorary member who was kept in the dark about most things and Sara as the wandering trooper they knew they could call. So yes, they were a team now and things were different, and the aftermath would not be as the last one. Oliver would stay and they would find a way to fix this mess. Like a team.

Which was why she was blindsided when he stepped up to her and Diggle in the basement, and announced he was leaving.

"What do you mean, you're _leaving_?" she let out, blinking at his stoic, blank face.

"I'm going back to Lian Yu," he said. "I never should have left in the first place."

Her head whipped toward Diggle; his expression didn't show much, though there was some disappointment there. But no surprise.

Felicity, for her part, was definitely surprised. "Wh – I don't...I don't understand," was all she could think of saying.

Oliver didn't meet her eyes as he said, "I failed – again. The only reason you and Laurel were in danger was because of me, because Slade wanted to get back at _me_ , and – " He sighed. "And he's still out there, but if I'm not here, there's no reason for him to go after anyone I care about – there's no point if I'm not here to see it." After licking his lips, he added, "I failed to kill him, just like I failed to kill Malcolm, and he beat me – _again_. He didn't even have to _try_ this time. I'm no good against him. I'm no good for the city either. I should never have come back."

"You – you can't be serious." She huffed. "We've spent months helping the city – "

"And we have nothing to show for it," he cut in, sharply. "Every time we take one bad guy down, ten more pop up. Malcolm killed more people again, and we couldn't stop him. We couldn't even see him coming – or Slade. This was a fool's crusade, just like the last one."

"But – what about your family? And the city? They need you. _We_ – " she gestured between herself and Diggle - "need you."

He shook and ducked his head, like he was trying to shake her words off. "My sister isn't speaking to me," he whispered. "And my mother – well, we haven't been on the best of terms. And the city – " His expression hardened. "Nothing I do makes much of a difference – if anything, I make it worse. I bring psychopaths and destruction wherever I go, and I did this time, too – "

"Merlyn isn't your fault – "

"I failed to kill him!" he raised his voice. "I tried, and I failed, and he came back! Just like the Count, like Helena – like Slade." He shook his head. "The city's better off without me."

Felicity gulped, hating how small her voice sounded as she asked, "And what about us?"

He looked up just for a split second, and that was the only showcase of how deeply his regret ran she got.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, his voice low and thick.

Well.

So much for things being different.

"Come on, man, don't do this," Diggle said quietly.

Felicity watched him and Oliver stare at each other for a long time, but in the end, she knew Oliver's will would win out. Some things never changed.

"I just wanted to say goodbye," was Oliver's response.

Well, at least they'd gotten _that_.

It was weird, actually; it didn't feel like much of a goodbye at all. "So, you're done?" she asked.

He nodded, and she could have rolled her eyes at how solemn he made it look. "I'm done."

"Then so am I," she concluded. "I'm not going halfway across the world to drag you back again. And when you decide you want to pick up where you left off, I won't be here for the ride. I'm out."

"I won't come back, Felicity."

"Yeah, you will," she said. It could be a year or a decade, but he'd find a reason to come back. Because some things never changed. "But I won't be here when you do."

She slung her bag over her shoulder. "Safe travels," she told him before making her way out, her heels clacking loudly in the ensuing silence. She knew there would be more words exchanged between him and Diggle, but she had no desire to linger behind and hear the conversation.

He was running away again. And she knew better than to chase after him this time.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The transition was almost seamless this time.

Mrs. Queen took over as CEO at Queen Consolidated. Isabel Rochev now enjoyed a new partner to have stare-off with. And Felicity had gotten her old job back in IT. She didn't know if she wanted to stay there anymore, but something had to pay her bills until she figured it out.

Diggle had been the one to inform Roy that there would be no more crime-fighting for them, using the voice-distorter to impersonate the Arrow.

Laurel was on a paid leave of absence at the DA's office.

The basement was locked and empty.

And Felicity –

Well, she was mostly going through the motions. She felt like it hadn't hit her yet, the whole weight of the situation. Like the few seconds of dead quiet after an impact. A train going off its rails and hitting a wall of stone before going up in flames; and those few seconds in-between were dead quiet. She felt like she was trapped in that stillness, too, suspended in mid-air before things started moving again. It would probably be ugly when they did.

The city felt like it had been suspended in motion, too. At least for a couple of days. Then, it had exploded. Malcolm Merlyn was alive. He'd killed again – targeted the Glades again. Alderman Blood was gaining traction by the minute. _Again –_ and Felicity still believed there was something terribly off about him, even more so now. She didn't know why, but he seemed even more... _invested_ this time. In a way that made her very uncomfortable.

But she wasn't scrambling to put the basement back together now. And she wasn't making longterm plans for the rehabilitation of Team Arrow. The Arrow, in his own words, was done, and so was she.

So much for being heroes.

It wasn't that she didn't understand that he carried the guilt of everything that ever went wrong on his shoulders. Or that he would be the last person to have faith in himself. _Or_ that he thought that, in end, everyone was just better off without him. But if all the road they'd covered since she and Diggle had dragged him back from Purgatory hadn't changed his mind on the matter, then there was nothing she could do about it.

And there was nothing she could about Team Arrow, either. It was officially dismantled. She and Diggle couldn't do it on their own. They'd tried what they could, the last time, but there was always the ever-present knowledge that they needed Oliver to make it work. They needed his skill-set. They needed him. Diggle was good, but he couldn't do what Oliver could. She was not fieldwork material. And Roy –

Roy was partially trained at best, and all that Diggle could teach him would never be enough to make him into the kind of crusader Oliver was. Besides, Felicity doubted Roy would be very enthusiastic to try, even if they gave it a shot – he felt betrayed, too. And Sara was running with the League of Assassins at her heels.

So, no more Team Arrow.

And with that, Felicity expected she would settle into the same sort of routine she'd had before all of it. Well, it wouldn't be the _same_ – it couldn't. Just the same _kind_.

What she had not expected, though, was to feel a hand cover her mouth as she walked to her car after work a week after Oliver had left, and a sharp smell to fill her nostrils as she lost consciousness.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It took her a while to open her eyes.

Her head felt too heavy for her shoulders, every last one of her muscles felt too stiff, and each breath she pulled felt like it was burning her throat and nose.

Felicity blinked through the fog, screwing her eyes shut then opening them, trying to focus her sight. Then, she realized it would stay unfocused no matter how hard she tried, because her glasses were missing. She could feel hard concrete beneath her, though, as well as recognize its bleak color stretch out around her; it wasn't the same as the one in the QC's parking lot, however.

A flash of hair swam into her field of vision next – of _white_ hair.

_Uh-oh_ , was the best her muddled brain could come up with.

"Hello."

How did one respond to a greeting by a high-ranking member of the Chinese mafia they called China White, and who was supposed to be under lock and key at Iron Heights and had evidently taken you hostage?

Where did the rules of appropriate social conduct stand on this?

China White crouched in front of her, and Felicity backed away on instinct; the pain that shot through her head the next moment let her know she'd hit it against the wall.

"Easy," the other woman told her. She opened the palm of her hand next, holding what Felicity vaguely recognized as her glasses. Her own hand came up to grab them, only for her to let out a yelp when it was yanked back, along with the sound of rattling metal; she was handcuffed.

Her left hand had been left free, though. So, she raised that one, feeling it starting to shake. It took longer than it should have to retrieve her glasses and slip them on, but eventually, the world around her sharpened again, and she was met with China White's dark eyes. She gulped.

"Wh – what do you want with me?" she asked, hating that her voice wavered as she did so.

The other woman shrugged. "You're our guest."

Felicity chanced a look at her surroundings, finding there to be at least five men with them in the – was it a basement? No, there was light streaming though the windows. A warehouse, maybe?

"That's funny," she commented. "I don't usually kidnap and handcuff my guests."

The realization that her mouth had gotten the better of her brain – _again_ – came a moment too late, but China White only smirked.

"The accommodations are temporary," she said. "Until the Arrow responds to my invitation."

Felicity stilled, feeling a heavy weight settle in her gut. "W-what?" she squeaked out.

The white-haired woman rose to her feet. "The Arrow and I have a lot of unfinished business," she said. "I want to settle our score once and for all. And _you_ – " her smirk grew wider – "are what's going to make him come to me."

The weight was turning into a churning now, gnawing at her insides. "I – I don't, he – he's – I don't have anything to – to d-do with – "

"Don't bother," China White interrupted her. "I _know_ he values you – your life, at least. He killed the Count for you. And I _know_ you were questioned by Quentin Lance about the work you'd done _for_ him." She shrugged. "Lance and the city may have forgotten about it, what with the quake and all, but my sources at the PD remember. You work with him," she stated. "He'll come for you. And when he does..."

Although she didn't voice the rest of her plan, reading between the lines was easy enough.

There was, however, a significant fault in her plan, even if she might be unaware of it. The Arrow wouldn't get to read her 'invitation', much less respond to it.

_He's not coming._


	2. Chapter Two

_Chapter Two_

 

Felicity had weighed her options – through the frantic pounding of her heart and the fear that was scrambling her thought process. She could push the idea that she wasn't involved with the Arrow, that the Triad had gotten it wrong; that would probably be for nothing, though. She doubted she could persuade China White of it under the best of circumstances. And if she did – well, that would only speed up the process on the bullet with her name on it being fired.

She could tell the truth, that the Arrow was gone. Packed his bags and left.

But it didn't take a genius to figure out it would follow the same pattern as the first option. They wouldn't believe her, they'd think she was protecting him. And if they did believe her, then she was useless anyway. _And then comes the bullet to the head_.

The thing was, she was pretty sure a bullet to the head was in the books anyway. They only counted on Oliver receiving one, too.

The way she saw it, Diggle was her only hope now. The clock was ticking, though. According to China White, she had two days.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**_Buenos Aires, Argentina_ **

**_One week earlier_ **

 

"You're kidding me, right?"

Sara sighed at Helena's tone, even as she stuffed more clothes into her bag. "I have to go back, Helena," she said, a little impatiently. It was going to take longer than she would have liked to get from this seedy motel they were in to Starling anyway, and she didn't have any time to lose.

Felicity had sent out a message, through the various anonymous channels she had set up herself for communication. They'd never used them before, so when the message came, Sara had known it was urgent even before reading its contents. _We need you_ , it said, followed by a succinct account of things that had happened. It was all Sara needed to hear to start packing.

Helena, however, was having trouble accepting it. "Why?" she let out.

Sara threw her batons on the bed, whirling on her companion. "Felicity sent me an S.O.S.," she said. "Things are _bad_. And my sister was nearly _killed_."

"But she clearly _wasn't_ , and your little troopers can clean up their messes," Helena fired back. "You said you couldn't go back to Starling – you said you _wouldn't_!"

Sara took a moment to draw a deep breath before saying, "I _have_ to."

Helena looked away, then quietly hissed, "And what about me?" She stepped up to her, anger flashing in her eyes. "We've crossed half the continent together, but now you're just going to ditch me because _Felicity_ sent out an S.O.S.?" She shook her head. "I should have known."

Sara frowned. "I want you to come with me, Helena," she said. It hadn't crossed her mind that she would think she wasn't wanted for the ride.

But if she thought that would ease Helena's mind, she was wrong. In fact, it only made her angrier.

"You're _serious_?" she raised her voice. "You want _me_ to go back to Starling? I should just – what? Walk right into the lion's den and trust your little friends won't open fire?"

Sara hung her head. She did understand Helena's reticence; her friends were, at the end of the day, Helena's enemies.

And they _had_ crossed half the continent together. From Edge City to New York, to Vancouver to Tijuana to where they were now. And in those few months, they had swept the streets clean of the vermin that crawled them, while targeting local branches of the Italian mob – which was Helena's idea and requirement, of course. It had been great. But her family came first.

"Helena," she began, lowering her voice, "I have to go back. They need me there – my _family_ needs me." She licked her lips. "I – I left the _League of Assassins_ for my family. So, if – if you won't come with me..." _Then I can leave you, too._

She didn't say the words but she knew Helena had heard them all the same. It was clear in the thinning of her mouth and the narrowing of her eyes; Sara knew there was nothing in the world that would make Helena trust another person entirely, so she was fairly certain she hadn't been all that surprised. More like angered. And in truth, Sara couldn't trust her either – not entirely. It would actually be foolish to have complete faith in the Huntress and her motives; her agenda. That didn't mean Sara didn't enjoy her company, though. And it didn't mean she _wanted_ to leave her behind, if she could help it. They were, after all, partners.

"I'm not going to leave you to the wolves, if that's what you think they are," she told her, taking a step closer. "And Starling City is full of injustice," she added, "especially now. There's plenty for a Huntress to do." She paused for a beat, then said, "But I will go, with or without you. And you can't tell me you wouldn't have done the same. If there's one thing we have in common, it's complete loyalty to those we love."

She knew Helena would appreciate the honesty, if nothing else.

It took a while to get an answer, but Sara waited her out. Eventually, Helena closed her eyes, and sighed. "Starling City it is, then," she agreed. "Home sweet home."

 

 

* * *

 

 

**_Starling City, California_ **

**_Present day_ **

 

Felicity tried to get her brain to shut up. Yet for all her efforts, it kept ringing with the same tune.

_Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock._

_Tick-tock, goes the clock_.

She didn't know how much time had gone by. The handcuffs remained on her wrist the entire time, and her abductors definitely weren't gracious hosts, because they didn't supply her with either food or water; she supposed it was something the mafia did in these situations, for further _incentive_ to have their demands met.

Which they wouldn't be. Because the Arrow wasn't coming.

_He's not coming_.

Sometimes, her captors left her alone in the room. Sometimes, a quiet fellow checked up on her. Sometimes, China White herself did. They'd trade words she didn't understand, and when what sounded like gibberish filled her ears, she thought that maybe she should have roped Oliver into teaching her Chinese.

_Oliver_. He was gone. Probably already swinging from trees or killing wildlife or making bug soup or whatever it was he did on Lian Yu. Maybe he stood on the beach and broodingly stared at the mask and arrow he'd planted there – was it a twisted sort of shrine or a reminder that friendship didn't last? Probably the latter. He certainly seemed to follow that philosophy in all things. Nothing really lasted for him. Definitely not his presence.

_He's not coming_.

Her mouth was dry. And her tongue felt like it had gone bad or something similarly disgusting. Not as disgusting as the bucket they'd left her for her 'basic necessities' – now _that_ was disgusting.

And her body hurt all over – what with not moving it and all that. Her shackled wrist was basically a horror story at this point. Her spine felt like it was probably in the process of calcifying. And muscle atrophy was happening, too, she was pretty sure. Also, her head pounded. Could be from the lack of sleep – she was quite tired, actually, but she couldn't let herself sleep. She knew better than to fall asleep with the vultures circling. Diggle may not have been able to teach her how to throw a punch, or get out of handcuffs, or intimidate enemies into submission, but she wouldn't fail him on this; she'd stay vigilant.

She wondered about Diggle. He had to have seen the calling card, whatever it had been – probably her phone. That was what she would use. Also, her phone was equipped with a tracker, which would have led the cavalry at the bad guys' door a long time ago. So, definitely her phone.

And Digg was smart, especially when it came to this stuff, so he'd do some recon, and then he'd make plans like soldiers did, and he'd probably strap a lot of riffles to his back – or maybe just one, and he'd fill his belt and socks with sidearms, and he wouldn't be very theatrical about his entrance, unlike a certain _someone_ , and then it would be Digg to the rescue. It couldn't take him that long. He was good at this stuff. So, it couldn't take him long. Right? It felt like a long time already, though. But that was probably because she was the one held captive. It was bound to feel longer to her. Right? He'd be here soon, though. He would.

Right?

She tried to stop the prickling in her eyes, but much like with her brain, there was nothing she could do stop her tears from falling.

_No one's coming_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He was close to just throwing caution to the wind, and going in there by himself. He could take them all on.

Even as he considered the idea, Diggle dismissed it. If there was one thing Felicity wouldn't forgive him for, it would be getting killed while trying to save her.

It was the only thing that kept him from gearing up instead of sitting in Verdant's basement and looking at the door every five seconds. He had found Felicity's cellphone, with the message intended for Oliver, along with a set of coordinates that led to one of the many abandoned buildings in the Glades. Diggle had scouted the place, eventually concluding that it wasn't where they were keeping Felicity; it was just a trap for Oliver to walk into. Not that Diggle would have expected anything else.

Members of the Triad came and went, and Diggle followed a select few, which led him to Felicity's true location. The warehouse she was held in was very heavily fortified, too; the Triad had obviously anticipated the eventuality of this location being discovered. They were waiting for the Arrow either way.

Except the Arrow was cooped up on an island in the middle of nowhere, and Diggle would have cursed his name for leaving, but there would be time for that later. Hauling him back was not an option – not with the timeframe the Triad had set. For John to go in alone was also not an option – well, it was a last resort.

What he counted on was back-up in the form of one Sara Lance. He knew Felicity had told her to come back, and he was sure she would. With her help, he could get to Felicity. But he had to wait for her. It killed him to wait.

His other option was Roy – but that was _really_ his last resort. The kid would make a mess. Bringing Lance and the PD could also be a possibility, but with their _tactics_ , it was quite likely none of them would come out of it alive, not to mention that it would raise too many questions – so, they were the option he considered even _after_ Roy.

Sara was his best option.

But time was running out, and if she didn't come soon –

The beep he'd been _praying_ to hear finally echoed through the basement. He whirled to face the clattering of footsteps down the stairs, and froze. "What the hell is _she_ doing here?"

 

 

* * *

 

 

Her mind was getting hazy, and it took all the effort in the world to not close her eyes, but there they were again, the white-haired leader and her muscle, talking in words she didn't understand, and chancing glances at her. She didn't need to know Chinese to guess what they were saying, though.

_He's not coming_.

She could have told them that.

_No one's coming_.

So, essentially, she was screwed.

She was getting too tired to hold her head up. She heard one last command from China White, though. She didn't need to speak Chinese to figure this one out, either. _Kill her._

The instructions may have been a little more complex than that, because they were followed by nothing but silence for a while, long after China White had gone out of sight.

But the clock was still running.

So, in the end, the sharp sound of a gun being cocked was inevitable. Felicity closed her eyes.

The shot, however, didn't come.

Instead, there was suddenly noise – a _lot_ of noise – and scuffle and struggle.

She felt tears wet her cheeks as she forced herself to look, to see what was happening. It was all blurry and her head throbbed from the loudness, and it was dark, but she still saw the stark flash of bleach-blonde hair.

_Sara_.

Sara had come for her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

" _East entrance is secure_ ," Sara heard Diggle's voice through her earpiece, from where she and Helena were ducking in the shadows by the northern one.

Diggle had done a good job with the recon, noting that of the three possible points of entry; one was boarded, which left two to be covered – by both the Triad and the rescue party. One was their way in, the other one their way out. Diggle had made sure the coast was clear on the latter – which had come as something of a surprise, actually. The number of people inside was smaller than during his recon, which meant that they were really cutting it close to the deadline.

"All right," Sara said. "It's our turn."

From where she was crouched at her right, Helena raised her crossbow, taking her aim. "I hope you appreciate all I do for you," she commented before she released her arrow; the lone guard at the entrance fell to the ground a second later.

"This is not for me," Sara corrected, straightening to her full height. "It's for Felicity."

"Well, I'm mostly just doing it as a favor to you," Helena informed dryly, another arrow loaded and at the ready as they made their way inside. The warehouse was predictably bare of any ornaments, and the electricity had obviously been cut a long time ago, too; the only source of light now where the windows. There was also a noticeable lack of human presence, which did not sit well with Helena.

"And I was also rather hoping to have some fun," she said. "So far, this is disappointing."

" _Of course you'd be disappointed by being denied the chance to up your body count,_ " came Diggle's irritated response through the comms.

Helena merely smirked. "What's a huntress without her prey?"

Sara didn't bother paying attention to the rest of their sarcastic back-and-forth.

They did that, apparently.

_Her_ concern, however, was Felicity. And it seemed like they were finally getting to her.

Sara raised her hand, halting both Helena's movements and her and Diggle's exchange. "There," she said, pointing to the half-open door down one of the corridors, and the three long shadows it cast on the floor; human shadows.

"Let's go." Helena followed her lead, keeping her crossbow at the ready as they kept to the wall, using the darkness to their advantage.

Finally, they were at the entrance, treated to the partial view of an extended arm, holding a gun.

Sara charged, kicking at the door to give Helena her clear shot. The gun was out of the man's hand the next moment and he was howling in pain, an arrow in his wrist.

The other two men in the room pulled their own weapons, opening fire. Sara ducked to the left while Helena went right.

While she would take pleasure in engaging them hand-to-hand, subduing them with her blows alone, they couldn't waste time. So, Sara reached for her trusted device, straightening to her full height while the men dropped their guns and went to their knees, their skin cut by the raining glass.

And when it stopped, she went to them. They didn't have time to waste, but it only took her a second to break their necks. Under other circumstances, she might consider sparing them, but these two...well, she had a _personal_ gripe with them, for once.

Both their necks broke with loud cracks.

Leaving them to drop to the ground, Sara turned to Helena, where she had the third man in a chokehold. "You know, I've killed some of your friends before," she heard Helena say. "I'd think you and your little organization remember me. But just in case you need reminding..."

The man fell to the floor next, his neck broken, too.

Helena enjoyed getting her brand of justice wherever she could get it, Sara had learned, and she had a particular affinity for dispensing it to members of mafia empires – for obvious reasons.

Her attention, however, was on the slumped-over figure behind the Huntress. She dashed past her, crouching down. "Felicity?" she called out, taking her face in her hands. "Can you hear me?"

Felicity's response was slow, her face drained of color and with heavy circles under her eyes, but when her eyelids fluttered open, she began to smile, ever-so-feebly. Sara smoothed over her hair. "You're safe now," she told her. "We're getting you out of here."

Felicity merely slumped forward, resting her cheek on Sara's shoulder.

She felt Helena's presence at her side next, following her movements to where she broke the handcuffs around Felicity's wrist.

"Let's move out," Helena said next, and with a nod, Sara rose to her feet, bringing Felicity with her. She slung her over her shoulder, carrying her while Helena covered them during their exit. Diggle was waiting for them with the getaway car.

After that, they'd be en route to the club basement Felicity liked to call home. Or used to, anyway.


	3. Chapter Three

_Chapter Three_

 

The basement of Verdant looked about the same as Sara remembered it. The complex set-up of computers, the glass casings, the weapons; the green hood.

Things were different, though. Oliver wasn't there.

And his absence was as tangible as his presence used to be.

Felicity laid on the basement's metal table reserved for unconscious injured parties, with an IV in her arm and a blanket wrapped snugly around her.

Sara stood right by her side, her eyes flickering to her monitored vitals every few seconds. Diggle stood a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest. Helena half-sat on one of the tables, leg propped on a crate on the ground, in a stance Sara thought was a form of taunt towards Diggle.

And the silence between them all was rather awkward.

Sara decided she should break it, by sticking to neutral subjects. "I think the Triad got the message," she said, feeling her voice was unusually loud in the quiet space, "but someone should still stay with Felicity. At least for some time."

Diggle nodded. "They might want to retaliate, too," he pointed out. "Or they might still think Oliver's around. In any case, we need to keep her safe."

"Get her a gun," Helena commented, in a tone that very much implied she was rolling her eyes.

Predictably, it made Diggle's posture turn very hostile. "This isn't any of your business," he warned.

Sara closed her eyes, and sighed.

"You may want to be a little more grateful," Helena fired back, "seeing as it was _my_ shot that saved your little friend here from a bullet to the head. Maybe I should have just let that guy pull the trigger."

"Considering you _threatened_ her life the last time you were here – "

"And now I helped save it," Helena cut in. "So we're even."

"Not by a long shot," Diggle said.

Helena was gearing up for a retort, but the soft mumbling sounds coming from the metal table made them all quiet. Diggle stepped closer while Sara watched intently, focused on the fluttering of Felicity's eyelids. When they lifted fully, Sara smiled down at her. "How was your nap?" she asked softly.

Felicity blinked a few times while a small frown creased her brow; she seemed to center herself after some moments, and her lips parted as if she wanted to speak. All that came out of it was a faint croak.

She cleared her throat and tried again. "Guess I didn't dream all of that," she whispered, her gaze dropping downward.

"No," Sara told her, "but you're safe now." Her own eyes lingered on Felicity's hand, where it lay at her side against the metal, and she moved to grasp it; weakly though as it was, Felicity squeezed back.

"Well, that's debatable," came Helena's comment, and Felicity's reaction was instantaneous. Her eyes lifted to the other woman and widened, as she stuttered, "Wh – what are – "

"Hi." Helena pushed herself off the table, coming closer. Sara shot her a warning glance. "Don't give me that look," Helena told her. "You're the one who insisted I come here."

"Sara, what's – what's happening?" Felicity's quiet question made Sara sigh. She ran her thumb over her knuckles to soothe her, then said, "She's with me. I was with her when I got your message. We came here together."

"We _rescued_ _you_ together," Helena supplied.

Felicity's eyes bounced between the two of them, and every new piece of information only seemed to confuse her further. "You – you're working with her?" she let out.

Diggle made a little sound, as if to agree with the sentiment behind the query.

Before Sara could try and explain, Helena was piping in. "Considering whom _the two of you_ were working with before he left you hung out to dry," she remarked, "I don't think you're well-placed to take the moral high-ground on anyone's choice of partners."

The remark was biting, and it cut just the way Helena had wanted it to; by drawing all the attention back to the very noticeable absence in the room.

Sara watched as Felicity's eyes went over the corners out of habit, searching but not finding what they were looking for, and she watched as they slowly filled with tears.

While Sara tightened her hold on Felicity's fingers, John laid a comforting hand on her forearm, just above where a bandage was wrapped around the bruised wrist of her other hand. "You know he'd be here if he knew, Felicity," he told her kindly.

"But that's just the point, right?" she whispered, then sniffled. "He _doesn't_ know because he's _not_ here. And that's – that's a choice he made. He chose to leave even if – " she blew out a quiet breath – "even if that meant he wouldn't be here if _things_ happened." She sniffled. "So, there's that."

A tear escaped the corner of her eye and she turned her head away, burrowing her cheek in the makeshift pillow they had made her and tucking her chin in the crease of her shoulder.

"Did you really expect better?"

_Dammit, Helena_ , Sara thought.

"I think it's time for you to leave," Diggle issued another warning, with a definite threat lacing his words this time.

Helena raised an eyebrow. "You know, I'm really starting to feel unwanted around here."

"That's because you are."

"Digg," Felicity muttered softly, in a tone Sara would associate with someone calling off their protective big brother. And John seemed to understand that, falling back.

Felicity raised her head next, only a fraction, to look at Helena. "I kind of owe you my life now," she said, "so...thanks for that, I guess."

Sara followed Helena's reaction out of the corner of her eye, withholding the urge to smile at the oddly blank expression on the Huntress's face; Felicity had surprised her with her gratitude, that much was clear, throwing her in for a loop when all she had expected was to be torn to pieces. Being blindsided into not having to play defense would throw off even the best of them, Sara supposed.

After some uncomfortable moments, Helena cleared her throat. "Well, I think I _will_ go now," she announced, exchanging looks with Sara as she retreated. She gave her a slight nod, which Sara returned; she'd told Helena about the place she favored in the city, the clocktower in the Glades. They had agreed to stay there, for however long their business kept them in Starling. Sara surmised it would be longer than Helena would have liked.

Sara tracked her movements until she disappeared out of sight, and as the door clicked shut behind Helena, she could practically feel Diggle's eyes boring down on her. With a soft sigh, she met his, unsurprisingly, disapproving gaze.

"Something else you'd like to say, Digg?" she asked.

He stayed quiet for a moment, then shrugged. "Not really," he said. "I'm just surprised at your... _choice of partners_."

"She's not as bad as you think she is."

"No, actually, Sara, I think she's way worse than _you_ think she is," he retorted. "She's a psycho – a stone-cold killer!"

"And so am I!" Sara matched his tone. "I was an _assassin_ for years. My body count _by far_ exceeds hers, and if that's what you think of her, then I have to wonder what you think of _me_."

He dropped his eyes to the ground, shaking his head. "It's not the same," he defended. "She doesn't care about the destruction she leaves in her wake, about the _collateral damage_." He threw his arms out. "She was willing to start a full-blown mob war just to get to her father, she would kill _anyone_ – McKenna Hall is still learning how to _walk again_ after your new partner shot her femur to pieces!" He drew a sharp breath there, as if to calm himself, then repeated, more quietly, "It's not the same."

Sara pursed her lips. "You're right, it's not the same," she said. "I killed people I was _told_ to kill – the way an assassin does. The same way your brother's killer does." Diggle reeled back, like the mere idea was outrageous, but Sara went on. "See, you're right, I'm not like Helena – I'm more like Deadshot," she concluded. "Except I didn't even get paid. And you want to speak about collateral damage? Every person I killed while with the League was collateral damage in Ra's al Ghul's endgame, and I played along to save _my_ life." She felt the burning of tears in her eyes and ducked her head, pulling a deep breath through her nose. "So, if Helena's irredeemable, then so am I – maybe even more so."

Diggle looked distinctly uncomfortable after she was done. Eventually, he only said, "I didn't mean to offend you, Sara."

"I know," she assured. "And I get that...your _history_ with Helena makes you wary. But she _is_ my partner," she asserted, "and she was on your side tonight. I think that counts for something."

Eventually, Diggle nodded. Sara doubted it had made him any more inclined to welcome Helena, though. So, she dropped her eyes down, to Felicity.

"I'm sorry if I upset you," she apologized. " _Again_."

Felicity's shoulder moved against the table, in a small shrug. "I'm just glad you're here."

Her voice was quiet and thick, and Sara knew she was thinking of the one person who _wasn't_ here again. While she understood Oliver's thought process better than she'd like, though she did not condone it, Sara also understood that Felicity's loyalty was absolute; and it hurt not be shown the same kind of loyalty in return.

So, she ran a soothing hand over Felicity's hair. "Get some more rest," she said. "You're dehydrated and exhausted. And your body heals best when you're sleeping." She patted her hand one last time before letting go. "I'll see you later, okay?"

Felicity gave her a little smile, while Diggle offered her a nod of farewell, and with that, Sara was on her way. Before she met Helena back in the clocktower, she needed to make a stop first. To check up on her sister.

From the little information Diggle had supplied her with, Laurel hadn't spoken to anyone since she and Felicity had been taken by Slade Wilson. And Slade was, in himself, a whole other can of worms Sara wished she could keep sealed. But that past had spilled into this present and sooner or later, she knew she would have to face the part she had played in that history. With both Felicity _and_ her sister.

Still, she needed to check up on Laurel first.

And then, she would need to speak to her father.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sara sat at the counter's far end, waiting for her father to come through the doors of their rendezvous place of choice.

She had looked through Laurel's window not an hour earlier, watching her sister cloaked in darkness save for the lone lamp that cast shadows on her face. Sara had seen papers scattered around, clothes slung over chairs haphazardly and far too many empty wine bottles. And Laurel –

Laurel looked terrible.

And now, Sara was meeting their father.

She smiled when the door was pulled open with far too much enthusiasm, and her father appeared in sight, his eyes taking in the patrons until they landed on her; he crossed the space in barely a few hurried strides.

Sara welcomed his hug, letting him hold her as tightly as he liked, for as long as he liked.

"I missed you, baby," she heard him say, and squeezed him tighter for a moment.

"I missed you, too, Daddy," she told him softly, taking a deep breath before pulling away.

"I didn't think you'd be back," he said, running a hand over her hair. "Not for a while, anyway."

"I wasn't planning on it." Sara stepped away from his arms, retaking her seat; her father followed suit. "But I had to," she said. After a beat, she added, "Felicity sent me a message. She said I was needed here...that Laurel needed me, after what happened."

Her father gave her a studying look, then sighed. "You probably know more about it than I do, then," he concluded. "The truth is, I don't – " He sighed again, and ran a hand over his face. "I'm not sure _what_ happened. When we got to Queen's offices, we just – we found nothing. Laurel barely said a thing about it. Oliver only mentioned this... _man_ who'd taken them hostage, said he didn't know him. Ms. Smoak didn't say much, either."

Sara looked away. She hadn't expected either Oliver or Felicity to mention Slade Wilson's name if they could help it – and Laurel had evidently made it easier for them to keep it secret. Diggle had said that Oliver's alter-ego had been kept secret from Laurel, too, so all that she did know was that a man named Slade Wilson had a score to settle with him; she knew who she had been meant to stand-in for, too. And _that_ was what worried Sara the most.

" – apparently, Oliver tossed him out of a window, but we found no body, and it only accounts for part of all the broken glass – "

She whipped her head around to face her father again. "Broken glass?"

He looked a little startled by the interruption, and the query, but eventually, he nodded. "Every glass surface in the place was shattered," he informed. "I have no idea how. The best theory we have is that the lunatic who took them did it for sport but – well, it's not much of a theory, is it?"

That was...strange.

She would have to ask Felicity about it. But it was also not what she wanted to speak to her father about.

"I think you're going to have to accept that you won't get all the answers here, Dad," she said.

He raised an eyebrow. "So, you _do_ know more about this than I do?"

Sara gave him a little shrug in response. He shook his head at her, then asked, "Okay, then can I know where you've been?"

"Here and there," she told him, and he didn't seem to appreciate the vague response. So, she added, "I was in Coast City for a while." She smiled. "Watching over Mom."

"Does she know – "

"No." Sara shook her head. "She can't know I'm alive. Not yet." _Maybe not ever_. Too many people knew already – her father above all. It wasn't safe for him to know, in more ways than one. It wasn't safe for his own life, and if the League ever caught up with her and decided she had to pay her price for leaving, it wouldn't be safe for his heart, either.

Shaking that line of thought off, Sara said, "I was there for a few weeks. Then I...bounced from one place to another. I was actually in Argentina when Felicity called." She shrugged. "I packed and came straight here."

Her father hummed. "Well, the city's a mess – again. I think the Arrow could use your helping hand, actually."

Sara dropped her gaze to her hands. "The Arrow's gone, Dad," she whispered.

She could feel her father's posture shift beside her. " _Gone_?" he let out. "Is he – "

"He's not dead," she assured. "He's just...gone." She sighed. "And I don't think he's coming back anytime soon."

It was a while before her father spoke again. "So...does that mean _you're_ staying?"

She couldn't, not for long. But for now, she was needed.

"For a little while," she said. "At least until things...settle." With a deep breath, she added, "I went to see Laurel. She's not well, Dad."

It was his turn to look away. "No, she's not," he agreed, quietly. "She's not been well for a while now. Ever since the quake, and Tommy..." He shook his head. "She went after the Arrow, and that fell through, and then she...got all these ideas about Alderman Blood and how he wasn't who he said he is, and now _this_ , whatever it was...and I don't know how to help her with any of it," he admitted, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose; Sara knew he was trying to hold back his tears, and felt some of her own burn at the corners of her eyes.

"Maybe if you talked to her, Sara – "

She shook her head resolutely. "No, Dad – "

"Baby, look – " he covered her hand with his own – "you did a bad thing back then, with Oliver, but...you're still her little sister. She loves you, misses you. She'll forgive you."

Sara wished she could believe it would be as easy as that. And there were things her father didn't know, about her and Oliver. But Laurel did now, thanks to Slade.

"Maybe," she allowed. "But there are other things to worry about, too."

"That's an understatement," her father grumbled. "This mysterious kidnapper, we have no leads on him – or any idea when or if he'll return. Or even what he wanted." He pursed his lips. "Of course, I think _you_ do have an idea, but I won't get to hear it. And then there's Merlyn...God only knows how _he_ came back. But he's nowhere to be found, either. The Glades are a mess, everyone's in a panic, everyone's outraged...we were barely recovering from the quake, and then he struck again."

Sara frowned. "He just disappeared? Merlyn, I mean."

"Yeah. He had Thea Queen. Ms. Smoak said the Arrow was going after him, and last I heard, he found nothing when he got there."

"That sounds like he fled," Sara whispered, more to herself than her father.

"Who the hell knows what goes on through his head? He's a madman. But, he did leave the Glades scattered...crime's on the rise again. We can barely keep up – actually, no, we can't keep up, which is why it's a good thing you're here." He gave her a little smile. "Even if it's just you."

Sara bit her lip. "Actually, Dad...it's not _just_ me."

Her father frowned. "You said the Arrow was gone."

"He is," she said, "but...I sort of met someone else while I was away, and they came here with me."

"Who?"

Considering what she had been told about her father's encounters with the Huntress, it was probably for the best not to go down that road just yet. "I can't really tell you," she said. "But I think you'll probably know soon enough." They were in the Huntress's hometown, after all, and every arrow of hers was a statement.

 

 

* * *

 

 

At least there were actual windows in this tower.

Well, if one could call a glass clock face with a hole in it a window.

Helena pressed her forehead against the cool surface, letting her eyes go over the city down below one more time. The whole of Starling was within her sights; the middle class apartment buildings and townhouses, the business district and its skyscrapers, the rich neighborhoods from where she had come. The Glades.

The Glades stood out from this high, like pitiful ruins in the middle of a harmonious landscape. She hadn't seen them after the quake, hadn't really cared. But the damage sustained then was still far from repaired – and now, they had been damaged again.

The soft clangs of metal and creak of leather sounded from behind her, until a quiet thud of feet hit the ground; apparently, stairs and doors were still for crazy people. Not Sara Lance.

"I'm starting to see a pattern with your hideouts of choice, you know," Helena commented.

"It's a good – "

"Yeah, yeah, a good vantage point," she finished the argument for Sara.

She heard the quiet huff of a chuckle before Sara stepped up to her, taking a place at her side. "You can see the whole city from up here," she said.

"Is that really the way to go here?" Helena countered. "This city's not exactly a sight for sore eyes these days."

Sara's eyes went over the city, and Helena knew she kept her attention on the Glades. "No, it's not," she agreed. "Malcolm Merlyn made very sure of that."

"The Dark Archer." Helena hummed. "Last time he was here, half the Glades fell. The little explosion he set off this time pales in comparison."

"That's because he fled," Sara said, piquing Helena's interest. "I spoke to my father," she added. "He said Merlyn had Oliver's sister, then when Oliver went to fight him, he was just gone."

Helena raised an eyebrow. "From what I heard about him, he doesn't seem like the kind of man who would cower before the Arrow. Much less flee."

"He wouldn't," Sara agreed. "He fled from someone else."

Well, she knew _that_ tone. Helena looked Sara over, noting the tense posture and set jaw. There was one subject, she had learned, that got the Canary in this state. "You know, I never asked," she began, "but those people I helped you with in Coast City...they were dressed like the Dark Archer." She shifted her stance, to face Sara more fully. "Was he part of the League, too?"

She didn't get her answer right away, but in the end, Sara nodded. "He was," she said. "But Ra's al Ghul released him."

Helena frowned. "If getting released is an option, why did _you_ run?"

"It's not – an option, I mean." Sara sighed. "Or maybe it was, just...not for me. But Merlyn didn't honor the terms of his release. He used what he was taught for his own gain, his own agenda. That's betrayal."

"So...Ra's al Ghul wants him dead, I assume?"

Sara pressed her lips together and when the words came out of her mouth, they sounded strained. "He does."

Helena took another step closer. "The Dark Archer wouldn't cower before the Arrow, but he would before Ra's al Ghul," she concluded. "You think he's here."

"No," Sara said. "I'd be dead already if he were. But I think – " She took a deep breath, then tried again. "I think he _was_ here. And if he wasn't, then he's coming."

"So, all the more reason for us to leave as soon as we can."

"No, Helena, I _can't_." She turned to her, eyes flashing with the kind of stubbornness that had brought them to Starling in the first place; Helena clenched her teeth.

"Why not?" she let out. "We saved your little friend, you saw your family – and they're _fine_."

"They're not fine!" Sara raised her voice. "They still need me! And _I_ still need to keep them safe!"

"They've managed without you for _six_ years," Helena countered. "But _you_ are running for your life, and you're prepared to risk it for – _what_ , exactly?"

It looked like there were tears in Sara's away before she turned away; her head bowed and her hands came up to cover her face. Helena heard the ragged breath she took, saw her shoulders slump then straighten. She waited for her answer, though she was pretty sure what it would be.

"I can't leave," Sara said. Craning her head around just enough to look over her shoulder, she added, "You can, if you want to. I could never ask you stay just to fight my battles."

Sometimes, Helena wondered if Sara still only spoke all the right things to keep her at her side. She couldn't ask her to stay, no; but she could entice her with promises of battles.

And besides, they were both big on loyalty.

Helena cast another look at the city beneath them, then nodded. "I'll stay."


	4. Chapter Four

_Chapter Four_

 

There was not much for a girl to do when one of her wrists was out of commission.

Bandaged wrist equaled useless hand, which translated into inability to deliver keystrokes. She could still type with one hand, of course, but speed and a full range of hand motions were a necessity for the kind of typing _she_ did. So, not fun times for Felicity.

At least she had John's paintings to admire at all hours. Of day _and_ night. Because she was currently at his place, so he could keep an eye on her better; she hadn't argued, if only for the fact that should the Triad come after her again, they wouldn't think to look here first.

Diggle seemed confident they _wouldn't_ try again, though. The Canary may not be known far and wide, but the Huntress was a household name around here – and as much as he'd grumbled about owing any thanks to Helena Bertinelli, one arrow of hers could be message enough if one knew how to read it. Which the Triad did.

Besides, even if they did still plot bad and nefarious things, they would soon have to realize that the Arrow wasn't around. Not that that necessarily meant they wouldn't want to finish the job just for kicks. Or whatever it was that motivated members of the mafia.

Anyway.

The point was, she and Digg were roommies now.

And right _now_ now, she was sitting on his couch flipping through channels while he did his bodyguard gig for a new client. Life went on, as it happened, and he, much like her, had to make a living.

It also happened that she wasn't left unattended for long.

"I don't actually need to be babysat every minute of every day, you know," she commented.

She could hear the faint sound of Sara's laughter as she came around the couch, and took her seat next to Felicity. "You heard me come in," she said. "I must be losing my touch."

Felicity shrugged. "Not really. I just may have convinced Digg to put up motion sensors and cameras on all points of entry." She raised her tablet, from where it lay in lap. "See?" She pointed to the screen. "Saw you coming from a mile away."

Sara smiled at that one. "Fair enough," she conceded.

Felicity returned her smile before growing serious again. "I meant what I said, by the way," she told her. "I don't know a round-the-clock babysitter."

"I'm not here to... _babysit_ ," Sara countered, pausing on the last word like it had left a bad taste in her mouth. "I wanted to see how you were doing."

"And ask some questions," Felicity supplied.

Sara shook her head. "That can wait." Throwing an arm over the back of the couch, she asked, "So, how _are_ you doing?"

Felicity looked away. "Well, I rigged Digg's place with motion sensors and hidden cameras," she said quietly, "so...good?"

"You went through a lot," Sara told her. "No one expects you be completely fine – and more importantly, you shouldn't expect it from yourself."

"I know," Felicity whispered, taking a deep breath. "I'm just – it's not even that I'm scared or jumpy, which I am, but mostly I'm just – I'm _angry_ ," she said. "Like, how _insulting_ is it that I was this...this _bargaining chip_ , that's only valuable because it matters to some man? And it happened _twice_ in ten days! I mean, hey, I know the world is made of misogynists, but _come on_!"

She pulled air in through her teeth, closing her eyes as she counted backwards from three to calm herself; her hands balled into fists on top of her tablet. It was quiet for a while, with only her deep, steadying breaths to fill the silence, until Sara spoke up.

"I'm angry, too," she said, her voice low and grave, and a little on the deadly side.

Felicity looked up to meet her eyes; they were cold and blue, and they showed she carried her anger like she would a keepsake around her neck.

"No woman should ever suffer at the hands of men," Sara went on, and it almost sounded like a poem verse to Felicity's ears. Or maybe a battle cry. "Or because of them – for their benefit, their pain..." Her eyes strayed from Felicity's, to focus on the room's far end. "I know exactly how you feel," she said. "I lived the same thing Slade put you through – it's _because_ I did that he took you. And my sister." She sighed. "The difference is, someone died so I wouldn't." Bringing her gaze back to meet Felicity's, she added, "But you already know that."

Felicity swallowed thickly. "Yeah," she said. "Shado."

The name was foreign to her, as was the woman behind it. It was just five letters, no face or true story to connect them with. She knew Shado had been on the island. She knew Shado had died there. And she knew _she_ was meant to die for _her_ , here, in Starling. There once was a woman named Shado, apparently. And that was all Felicity knew. She was a myth, a ghost; a memory.

"I don't know anything about her," Felicity whispered.

Sara looked down, then back up again, and she asked, "Would you like me to tell you?"

Felicity nodded as quickly as she could.

A fleeting smile twitched Sara's lips before she started with her story. "I didn't really know her that well, or for very long," she began. "I came to Lian Yu with Anthony Ivo. I'm sure Slade has mentioned him." Felicity nodded again, so Sara proceeded. "It's not an allegiance I'm proud of," she said, "but he was the one who rescued me after the Gambit went down, and...well, I was at his side back then. He was looking for this...miracle serum, which – well, it's not really the important part here. And we came across Ollie...and his friends." Her mouth quirked at the corner. "You know, the first time I saw Ollie's green hood, it was on Shado."

Felicity blinked. "The hood is hers?" she let out.

"It was her father's," Sara explained. "His name was Yao Fei. When he died, Shado wore the hood. And when _she_ died – "

"Oliver did," Felicity said quietly. She'd never known that.

Sara nodded. "Yeah. And just like her father, Shado was an archer." After a quiet breath, she added, "She was the one who taught Ollie."

"Wait, she – she was the one who taught Oliver archery?" Felicity let out. "But that's...that's – " _That's everything_. She could feel tears starting to prickle her eyes as she said, "He's the _Arrow_ , it's – it's who he _is_. And he wears her hood, and uses the skill she taught and – and that's him honoring her, right? But..." She shook her head. "He never talked about her."

Sara looked away. "All things considered, I don't think he wanted to."

"Because of how she died," Felicity guessed.

After some moments of silence, Sara resumed her story. "Slade was hurt," she said. "He was dying, and we – we thought giving him the serum was his only chance. Turns out, it worked, but...not right away. And we'd crossed Anthony to get Slade the serum, so...when he found us, he...bound our hands behind our backs and forced Shado and me to our knees." She gulped. "And then he told Oliver to choose."

"He...didn't _really_ choose, right?"

"No." Sara shook her head. "I mean, I don't know. He says he did, but...I couldn't tell you how much of it was really a choice on his part and how much of it is just his guilt telling him it was." She sighed. "What I know is, Ivo pointed the gun at my head and Oliver threw himself in front of me. And then, Shado was dead."

Felicity had no words to offer to that.

"They threw her body in the water," Sara went on. "The current took it away, we couldn't find her – Oliver and Slade wanted to bury her next to her father, but...we couldn't find the body. And Slade, he...he vowed to get revenge on whoever was responsible for her death and..." She shrugged. "He blamed Oliver, once he found out – and me. So, what you and Laurel went through, it was because of...what Oliver did for me." There was a hitch in her voice as she added, "I'm sorry, Felicity."

The shake of Felicity's head came immediately. "It's not your fault."

"It's getting really hard to tell what is and isn't my fault," Sara whispered. "But I am sorry," she added. "That you got up in...the fallout of a past you had nothing to do with."

Felicity managed to muster a small smile and a nod, just to let Sara know she accepted her apology. She didn't need or want it, but she understood why Sara did.

After a beat, Sara licked her lips and, quietly, queried, "Can I ask _you_ something now?"

"Of course." She had a feeling what the question would be about, but she let Sara ask anyway.

With a deep breath, she did. "How much does Laurel know?"

"She heard everything I did," Felicity said. "She knows that one doctor Anthony Ivo shot a woman named Shado because Oliver 'chose' to save you. Of course," she added, more quietly, "that means she knows you didn't die when the Gambit went down. She knows you were on the island – that you 'died' _there_. So, she knows Oliver lied about that."

Sara closed her eyes and hung her head, bringing her fingers to press against her brow. "It's what I asked him to do, you know," she muttered. "I told him to say I'd died on the Gambit, if he came home and I didn't." Her hand made its way down her face, until it curled into a loose fist against her mouth. "And now, Laurel has another reason to hate me."

"I don't think she hates you," Felicity said quietly.

"Well, she has good reasons to," Sara whispered. "Not the least of which is that she nearly died as a stand-in for _me_." She shook her head, paused to take a breath, then added, "I spoke to my father. He said there was broken glass everywhere, in Ollie's office."

Felicity nodded. "Yeah, that was...weird. I don't actually remember it well, it just – it gets blurry after a while." She frowned. "Why, what are you thinking?"

"I'm not sure," Sara admitted. "But it's...strange."

"Like, 'this is exactly what happens every time you turn on one of your sonic-things' strange?" Felicity guessed.

After cracking a small smile, Sara nodded. "Basically, yeah," she said. "But maybe I'm just...projecting? There weren't any devices like that in the room, were there?"

"No." Felicity shook her head. "But Laurel did scream at one point."

"You think her scream broke the glass?"

"Hey, if the pitch was high enough, why not?"

" _Every_ glass surface in the _entire_ office?" Sara deadpanned.

Felicity pursed her lips. "Okay, maybe not."

A smile twitched the corner of Sara's mouth before she dragged her eyes away from Felicity and to some spot in the distance; in the quiet afterward, Felicity could nearly hear the sound of the wheels turning in her mind. But she'd keep whatever further theories or thoughts she had to herself, until the circumstances were such that she wanted, or needed, to share them.

Kind of like someone else she knew.

Clearing her throat, Felicity prompted, "Sara?"

She had her full attention in a second.

And she didn't really know what to say now. There had been a lump in her throat, just lodged there ever since Oliver had packed his bags, and it never stopped reminding her of what she had lost.

She felt the tears prickle at her eyes, even as she just opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water; Sara shifted closer to her, running a hand down the length of her arm. Her voice was soft and encouraging as she prompted, "Just say it, Felicity."

"He – he left," she managed to get out, and once she started, the words just kept pouring out. "And I don't get it, which is actually fine, he makes his choices, we all do, but – but if he's gone, then there's no more Team Arrow either." She shook her head. "Digg and I can't do it by ourselves, so...without Oliver, we can't keep doing the work we used to, and...and it's not that I'll miss him – I mean, I will, he's my friend, but...I _loved_ the work we did." She pulled in a shaky breath. "And I don't want to give it up."

She hadn't let herself say the words out loud before. The truth was, it hurt; everything about this hurt. What hurt the most, though, was desperately wanting something she couldn't have anymore. Being the hero behind the curtain.

Next thing she knew, Sara's arm was winding around her shoulders and Felicity let herself be pulled into her side, resting her head in the crook of Sara's neck.

"I suck at fighting," Felicity whispered. "Like, really, _really_ suck at it. I'm – I'm not fieldwork material, I can't do what – " she sniffled – "Oliver, and Digg, and you can, but...what I _can_ do, I'm really good at, and – and with the team, I got to use that. I was...I was one of the heroes on the block, you know?"

She felt the slight brush of Sara's chin against her head in small nod; her hand was gently laid against Felicity's hair next, her fingers stroking lightly over the strands. Felicity closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the touch.

"But Digg and I can't make it work," she went on. "And Roy is – " she sighed – " _Roy_ , and...bottom line is, we need Oliver. His skill-set. So, now that he's gone, I...I can't do what I love anymore, and – and I don't know how to deal with that." She gave a small, helpless shrug. "I don't want to give it up," she repeated quietly.

Sara was silent for a while after that, just running her fingers over Felicity's hair, combing through it every now and then. Eventually, she said, "Well, maybe you don't have to."

It took a moment for the words to register, but when they did, Felicity frowned. "What do you mean?"

She felt Sara's deep breath in the rise and fall of her chest. "What I mean is," Sara spoke, "Oliver's not the only one with that skill-set."

Felicity couldn't help her little twinge of hope. "You're staying?"

"Not for long, I don't think. But a while," Sara said. "And I'm not the only one."

Felicity blinked, and then it sunk in. She straightened, pulling away from her cozy position on Sara's shoulder to meet the other woman's eyes. "You can't be suggesting what I think you're suggesting," she let out.

Slowly, Sara's hand fell away from where it had remained at the back of Felicity's head, and she sighed. "I know you have a lot of unpleasant history with Helena," she said, "but I stand by what I told you, and Diggle, at Verdant. She's not as bad as you think she is. She helped save you. And she's staying in Starling...for me."

"There's a difference between owing _one_ debt of gratitude to her and becoming her fan," Felicity countered. More quietly, she added, "Frank Bertinelli's dead, you know. I'd kept tabs, so...his body washed up in Edge City, with an arrow through his heart." She shook her head. "She killed her father, Sara."

Sara held her gaze, even as her posture grew stiffer and her eyes more guarded. "I know," she said at length. "I helped her do it."

Felicity froze in her spot. "You – what?"

"We met in Coast City," Sara told her. "It was...bumpy, but she helped save _me_ , too. So, I offered to help her in turn." She shrugged. "What she wanted was to get to her father. I helped her with that."

Something had to be getting lost in translation here, Felicity thought, because... "She killed her _father_."

Sara pressed her lips together, then looked away. "I don't get it either," she said, "what it's like to feel what she did. I love _my_ father – I love him so much. But Helena hated hers. And just because I don't understand it doesn't mean it didn't make sense to her – _for_ her."

Maybe she just wasn't getting her point across right. "It's _patricide_!" Felicity let out. "She actually _killed_ her own father."

"It was what she wanted," Sara maintained. She licked her lips, then added, her voice growing softer, "I thought you of all people would be inclined to try and accept it."

"I'm sorry, _what_?"

"I just mean that," Sara nearly whispered, "you don't know what it's like to feel like I do – or Ollie, or even Digg. What it feels like to be a killer. To...barely have a few scarps of your soul left. But you don't think less of us for it." She shrugged. "I guess I just thought that, if you can see me – _us_ , as more than what we've done, you could do the same for Helena, too."

Felicity opened her mouth to respond, but the words got stuck in her throat; she had no idea what to say.

After a moment, Sara gave her a wan smile. "It was just a thought." She shook her head, as if to dismiss it.

Oddly enough, Felicity felt like she had just been kicked down from some sort of pedestal. "I'd work with you, Sara," she said. "But not with her."

"Like I said," Sara reiterated, "it was just a thought. _But_ ," she added, "this city does need help, so...if you change your mind, you have two people you can call. At least for a while."

It was...tempting.

Even after Sara left, with a warm goodbye and a squeeze of her hand, Felicity couldn't stop thinking about the Canary's words. It was probably ridiculous to even be considering it; working with Helena Bertinelli was so beyond the realm of possibility that Felicity could barely wrap her mind around the idea. And it was just as ridiculous to consider that the Huntress would want to work with _her_.

Still, to have an opportunity to keep doing what she loved, and help _the city_ that she loved...it tempted her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"So, I stopped a carjacking tonight," Helena announced while the clocktower's narrow staircase rattled under her feet. "And I broke into a supermarket to get us snacks." She dangled two bags in front of her, then let them drop to the floor. "How was _your_ night?"

Sara smiled. "I...went to check up on Felicity," she said.

She couldn't see Helena's face as the latter disposed of her mask and moved to take off her gloves, but she was fairly certain she was rolling her eyes.

"I asked her if she wanted to join us," Sara added after a moment's hesitation.

Helena stilled, and when she turned around, Sara was greeted to her most unimpressed look. "What?"

"She wants to keep doing what she used to, with her team." Sara shrugged. "So, I suggested she could have a new one, with us."

"What the hell were you thinking?" Helena deadpanned.

Sara sighed, then averted her eyes. "It was just a thought," she muttered.

"Yeah, a hopeless dreamer's thought," Helena commented. "You're certainly not that. Besides," she added, "don't you think you ought to consult me first, before making proposals in my name?"

"It was a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing," Sara defended. "And she said no anyway."

"You sound so disappointed."

In truth, she was. She hadn't come back with the intent of having her own team, or working with anyone other than Helena – or even helping the city, for that matter. But as she was listening to Felicity speak, the idea struck her; and now she wanted it.

The creak of Helena's footsteps grew closer, until she was right by her side. "You are, aren't you?" she asked.

Sara opened her mouth to deny it, but her intended words of protest only turned into a sigh. "I guess I was just...fond of the idea," she allowed. "And I – " she shrugged – "I thought she'd see things differently."

"By 'things', you mean _me_ , right?" Helena guessed. "I'm pretty sure she would have jumped at the opportunity to be _your_ crime-fighting girlfriend." She clucked her tongue. "Felicity Smoak is _never_ going to agree to work with someone like me."

"You're not so bad," Sara said softly.

"And you're the only one who thinks that."

Sara turned her head to the side just enough to get a look at Helena's face; there was a certain look Sara had grown used to seeing on the other woman's face, that betrayed her vulnerability, and the little heart she was still willing to give.

Eventually, Sara nodded.

After a moment, Helena asked, "How about we focus on what we're actually here for now? We need to see if your past is really coming back to haunt you, and if it is, how long before it's here."

"We need to figure out why Merlyn fled," Sara agreed. "Was it Ra's that spooked him, or just the promise that he'd come for him?"

"We've been brainstorming for days," Helena pointed out. "All it amounts to is a guessing game."

"Then let's get some real answers," Sara proposed.

"And how do we go about that?"

"We find out what the last person who saw Merlyn knows."

Helena raised an eyebrow. "You want to squeeze little Thea Queen for answers? Because I don't see her opening up to either of us willingly."

"That may be so," Sara allowed. "But I have another way in."

She smiled at the intrigued look on Helena's face. "It's time we let my friend Sin know I'm back in town."


	5. Chapter Five

_Chapter Five_

 

"How do we always end up here?"

Sara rolled her eyes at Helena's remark, though maybe she had a point; they did seem to end by at the docks a lot, wherever they went.

This time, however, they were doing it in daylight – with a few accessories to make them less easy to recognize, of course. Sin had a place by the docks where she liked to hang out, often by herself, and Sara hoped to catch her at such a time.

Her friend didn't disappoint.

She jumped from behind a few barrels, poised to either fight or run, then promptly froze in the spot; the next moment, Sara was catching her in a hug.

"Good to see you, too," Sara told her warmly when Sin pulled back, taking a moment to give the girl a proper onceover; she looked good. Better than when she'd last seen her.

Sin was still holding onto her arms, with a smile that showed all her teeth, and she looked like she was about to speak when Helena's presence finally seemed to catch her attention. Her head tipped to the side. "Who's your friend?"

Sara looked over her shoulder, to where Helena stood a couple of steps away. "Sin, this – " she motioned for her partner to come closer – "is Helena."

Helena stepped up to them, briefly waving her fingers through the air. "Hi."

Sin frowned for a moment, before her eyes widened. "Wait...Helena, as in Helena Bertinelli, as in the _Huntress_?"

Sara could have laughed at the way her jaw dropped.

"You're friends with the Huntress, no way!" Sin let out.

Helena clucked her tongue. "Well, at least people still remember me," she commented.

Sara shook her head, smiling at the dumbstruck expression on Sin's face, before she asked, "So, how've you been?"

There was a beat, where she still looked at Helena like she couldn't quite comprehend that she was there, before she shrugged, a little smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. "I got myself a high-profile friend, too," she said, and Sara couldn't help but grin. Same old Sin.

"As it happens, that's exactly why we're here," Helena interjected.

It only took a moment for Sin's expression to grow more guarded. "What do you want with her?"

"Malcolm Merlyn, actually," Sara said, to which Sin turned her wary look on her. "Look, Sin," she added, "there's a lot you don't know about me. Like why I left without saying goodbye last time."

"Yeah, that was a dick move," Sin agreed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"She does have a history of those," Helena supplied, making Sin frown; Sara cleared her throat pointedly.

"Wait..." Helena let out, catching on. "You don't know who she is, do you?"

"I know enough," Sin stated flatly.

Sara threw a rather self-satisfied look in Helena's direction; the latter ducked her head to hide her smile.

"I'd tell you more," Sara turned back to Sin, dropping her voice to a more serious note, "but it's best for everyone, and me, that very few people know the whole truth."

Sin gave an annoyed little tilt of her head. "Yeah, I get that," she deadpanned. "So, Malcolm Merlyn?"

"We need to know why he ran," Sara said simply. "And your friend Thea was the last to see him."

"So...what? You want me to fish for answers?"

"If you wouldn't mind," Helena said sweetly.

Sin spared them both looks, then stuffed her hands in her pockets. "Look," she said, "it's cool that you're going after that freak or whatever, but Queen's in a bad place right now, and Abercrombie's not helping either. So, I'm not down with adding to that and lying to her."

"You don't have to," Sara told her, just as Helena asked, "Who's Abercrombie?"

"He's the boyfriend," Sara informed quickly before turning back to Sin. "I'm not asking you to lie to her about who you need the answers for, Sin. You can tell her who's asking – " Helena made a little noise of protest but Sara ignored her – "and why. And...if she agrees to it, then there might be some answers in it for her, too."

"Like what?" Sin asked.

Sara gave her a small smile. "Depends on what she'd like to know."

Her friend didn't seem to appreciate the cryptic turn of her words, but eventually, she nodded. "I'll see what I can do," she agreed.

Sara nodded. "Thank you," she said. "I'll text you the number you can reach me on."

"Okay, cool. See ya around, Blondie."

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Were you out again last night?"

Thea watched as Roy paused in his tracks, his eyes dropping to the crate of vodka he was carrying to storage – which he was doing while trying to avoid running into her.

She marched up to him, planting herself firmly in his line of sight. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?" she asked. "Because you don't have to go to all this trouble, you can just ask me to do it."

He clenched his jaw, and she just knew she was about to get treated to another tirade about the Arrow and his mission and how someone had to stand up for the city with him, and how he was a role-model and whatever else not.

"I can't just do nothing, Thea," he told her. "Especially not now after – " He stopped himself short, but she knew what he was going to say.

"Now that my _father_ targeted the Glades again, right?"she asked bitterly.

Roy looked away, moving to let the crate drop onto the bar with a thud before turning back to her. "Yeah," he said bluntly. "And after he kidnapped you and wanted to take you who-knows-where, and I couldn't do anything about it."

She cocked her head to the side. "What, no big speech about how the Arrow tried to stop him and that makes him an example all who can pack half-a-punch should follow?"

Roy's face hardened. "This isn't about him anymore," he said quietly, with an amount of disdain Thea had never heard him speak with before. Not about the precious vigilante, anyway.

"Since when?" she let out.

"Since he left!" Roy snapped. "He's gone, he bailed on this city, but _someone_ has to keep doing what he did!"

Thea felt the sinking in her gut that told her she was about to find out someone else she loved had been lying to her. "How do you know that he left?" she asked quietly.

When Roy's face fell and he looked away again, she had her answer. "You were working with him, weren't you?" she hissed.

"No, I – " Roy sighed. "Not really. He was teaching me, training me, and I was – I was his eyes and ears on the streets."

_Unbelievable_. "So, all this time, you were his little sidekick?" Thea raised her voice. "Even after you told me you were done with him and everything he did? You were lying to me!"

"No, Thea, I – "

"You _what_?" she fired back. "I mean, you were the one person I expected to be honest with me, and you just – no, you know what, I can't do this right now." She shook her head. "I'm way too tired of being lied to, and then having people tell me it was to protect me or because they loved me or whatever – 'cause that's what you were going to say, right?" His expression told her she was right on all counts, so she nodded. "That's what I thought."

She turned away, walking until she was exiting the club, and ignoring Roy's calls to wait all the while. She got into her car, slammed the door shut, and just let her head hit the seat; everyone seemed to be under this impression that their lies would protect her when, in fact, she rather thought that it was the lies she needed protecting from.

She flinched when a loud tap came from the passenger side window, only to sigh when Sin's face floated into view. Her friend didn't wait for an invitation before she was letting herself in. "What's wrong?" she asked when she'd made herself comfortable in the passenger's seat.

Thea felt like laughing. Hysterically. "That's a long list," she said, "but right now, what's wrong is that my boyfriend was _also_ lying to me, just like my mother and brother, and has actually been moonlighting as the vigilante's little sidekick for months."

She turned to Sin, only to find that the latter looked rather...guilty.

Thea huffed. "You knew, didn't you?"

"I...kind of did," Sin admitted. "But like, even before you and I hung out and – "

"That really doesn't make it any better."

" – I sort of knew when I led him to my friend so she could beat him up for answers. Speaking of that – "

"Your friend beat him – what?"

"Oh, no, she didn't, she just – okay, look." Sin shifted in her seat, turning to face Thea fully. "This friend of mine, right, she's sort of...into the whole vigilante thing, too. A little."

Thea only raised an eyebrow at her.

"Uh, remember that woman who was beating up creeps in the Glades a while back?" Sin asked next. "Like, before we met?"

There had been a few rumors and reports about a woman going through the Glades and beating up rapists and similar scum that Thea remembered; slowly, she nodded.

"That's my friend."

"You know her? Who is she?"

"I don't... _really_ know."

"You just said you knew her."

"Well, I don't _know her_ , know her – I mean, I don't know like, her full name or anything, I just...know her."

"Right," Thea deadpanned.

More quietly, Sin added, "She saved _me_ from some creeps, too. And we just...spend some time together, I guess, down in the Glades. Anyway – " she cleared her throat – "she's back in town."

"That's...nice."

"And she brought a friend."

"Okay..."

"That friend being the Huntress."

Thea blinked at her friend. "Helena Bertinelli?" she let out. "What sort of people do you hang out with?"

Sin gave her a very pointed look, then said, "I don't actually hang with the Huntress – though that'd be kinda sweet..."

When Thea raised an eyebrow, Sin pressed her lips together and gave a little nod. "Right, so the point is," she went back to her original thread of conversation, "they're both in Starling, and they're... _interested_ , in Merlyn."

Thea huffed. "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me."

"I don't know what they're after exactly," Sin went on, "but they wanna know why he ran. Apparently, that's important. So, they – "

"Want _you_ to get answers out of _me_ ," Thea concluded. "Sorry to disappoint, but I don't actually know why he went up and away, or why he didn't stick around to kill the Arrow, or why he didn't go through with his plan to whisk me away so we could form some sick, twisted, happy family – "

"Whoa, slow down," Sin cut in. "It's not like that – I mean, it is, but..." She sighed. "I'm telling you all of this 'cause I wanna do this whole honesty thing with you. So, here's the deal: you're the last person who saw him, so they think you might know something. And they said there could be some answers in it for you, too."

"What does that mean?"

"I've no idea."

How insightful.

Thea fell quiet, considering her options. _Oh, what the hell, she thought_. "Okay, I'll tell them exactly what happened with Merlyn," she agreed. "But I wanna do it in person."

"Wait...you wanna meet with them?"

Thea nodded. "Yeah."

Sin let out a low whistle. "Hey, I'd be happy to play the messenger, but this works too. And I gotta say, you've got guts, Queen."

Maybe. But these days, she didn't feel like much of a Queen at all. Her entire life was built on lies, apparently, and the one solitary truth she had now was that she didn't really know who she was anymore.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Felicity stared the at the TV, intent on immersing herself in some quality mindless sitcom, but none of the flickering images really registered and everything that was said only sounded like white noise.

"How's the hand?"

She smiled when Diggle plopped down on the couch next to her, offering her a beer. Taking the bottle with her good hand, she said, "Let me put it this way: you'll have to grab that bowl over there by yourself."

John snorted, leaning in to snatch the bowl of nachos on the coffee table. "It'll heal just fine," he assured. "Give it a little time."

"Too bad I'm not the patient kind," she grumbled, then turned to him with a small smile. "So, how was your day?"

He let out a long-suffering sigh. "I can't believe I'm saying this," he told her, "but I think working for Oliver spoiled me. I'd forgotten how profoundly _boring_ this line of work actually is."

Felicity chuckled. "Entitled rich white boys giving you grief?"

"That too," he said. "But – I don't know. I guess I miss all the... _excitement_. And after what we did, everything else just...seems less glamorous in comparison."

"Yeah, I know the feeling," Felicity agreed quietly. And evidently, John knew her too well not to notice that statement was full of underlying meaning.

"So," he prompted softly, "how was _your_ day?"

Felicity let herself sink into the cushions, resting her cheek against the back of the couch. "You know how I told you Sara came by last night?" she asked and waited for him to nod before adding, "Well, she wasn't just checking up on me – I mean, she was, kind of, but...well, she also said some stuff and..." She sighed. "Now I can't stop thinking about it."

"About what?"

"I was...telling her about how I miss what we used to do, and how I don't want to give it up," Felicity said quietly, picking at the hem of her pajamas, "but how you and I can't make it work without Oliver and his skill-set, so Sara... _pointed out_ , that there are... _people_ who do have said skill-set and are currently here." She bit her lip. "Her and Helena."

Diggle barked a short laugh. "That's funny."

But when Felicity didn't add anything further, he grew still. "Wait, you're not – Felicity, are you seriously considering this?"

"I'm not," she said quickly. "I mean, I am – no, I'm not. Okay, maybe I am." She sighed when John looked so dumbstruck he couldn't even put on any sort of discernible facial expression. "Don't look at me like that, Digg, it's... _tempting_."

"Really?" he deadpanned. "So, the work we used to do, the kind of team we had – you'd be okay with doing all of that alongside _Helena Bertinelli_?"

Felicity looked down at her hands. "I don't – I don't know," she whispered. "Sara thinks she's okay, maybe..."

"Maybe what? Maybe she's not a psycho?" Diggle let out. "She killed her own father."

"I know," she said. "So does Sara. She...helped Helena track him down."

It took a moment for that to sink in with Diggle; he only shook his head and blew out a quiet breath. "Just because she's Sara's friend, doesn't mean she's yours too, Felicity," he said.

"I know that, but – okay, I did some digging today, and it took a really long time, since you know, one functional hand – I actually had to use a _mouse_ at one point – but I've found a pattern. Since Frank Bertinelli died, there's been a string of entire local branches of the mob, especially Italian, being taken down, all over the country – actually, not just the country, since I have that nifty trojan that feeds me A.R.G.U.S. intel, and there was this drug cartel bust in Columbia and a Bratva member was taken out in Buenos Aires, and – and I think that was them, Digg. Sara and Helena." She paused for a moment, replenishing her air supply, before she quietly added, "It's what we used to do, too, right? Taking down organized crime when we could?"

John was silent for a while. "Just because a former mob princess has an ax to grind with the mafia," he eventually said, "doesn't make her like us, Felicity. And just because she did it with Sara by her side doesn't mean they're the kind of team we were." He shook his head. "I don't think they do it for the same reasons we did."

"Yeah, but...Oliver wasn't exactly Mr. Noble Intentions when he started out, right?" she pointed out. "When _we_ started out, with him. Nothing is just black-and-white...working with you guys taught me that."

That did earn her a small, and maybe just a wee bit proud, smile from Diggle. He blew out a long, deep breath, then asked, "So, how long have you spent trying to convince yourself this could actually be a good idea?"

Well, he had her there. But on the bright side, she never really had to hide anything from John. "Too long, probably," she admitted.

"Felicity, I'm not going to change my mind about Helena," he said, "but I can't tell you what to think either. Just..." With a sigh, he set the bowl of nachos aside and covered her hand with his. "Be sure this isn't just you trying to get back to what you loved in whichever way you can without thinking it through."

"Wise words," she agreed softly, squeezing his fingers in gratitude. He returned the gesture with a smile and a raise of his beer bottle; Felicity brought her own to clank against it, in toast to the wisdom of John Diggle.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Helena grunted at the sharp sting of wood against her mouth, tasting blood on her tongue as she licked over the spot.

"You take too long between attacking and reverting to defense," Sara chided. "It leaves you vulnerable."

Straightening, Helena ran her thumb over her split lip. "I'll keep that in mind when I come at someone with a stick."

"A _bō_ ," Sara corrected.

"It's a long wooden stick," Helena deadpanned.

Sara grinned. "Hey, you're the one who said you wanted me to teach you everything I knew," she reminded. "Maybe you should stop complaining every time we practice."

_With long wooden sticks_ , Helena thought sourly. "Well, I didn't think it'd involve this much of you trying to knock all of my teeth out," she retorted. "I'm better with just my bare hands."

"The _bō_ is an extension of your limbs," Sara said. "It follows all the same rules you already use when you fight. And if you master it, then it will improve your hand-to-hand skills, too."

Helena pursed her lips. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

"I didn't either, at first. Before it grew on me." Sara told her. "Got half of _my_ teeth knocked out."

Helena cocked her head to the side; there were no gaping holes in the other woman's mouth that she could see. "What, does being in the League come with dental benefits?"

Sara's head tipped from one side to the other. "More like, one of its members is a dentist."

Helena raised an eyebrow. "A dentist assassin?"

With a small shrug, Sara said, "She does wonders with veneers. And knives."

And the infamous League of Assassins kept on being demystified, Helena thought. She gripped the damned woode – the _bō,_ tighter and shifted her stance. "Again?"

Sara complied with a smile. When she charged, Helena deflected, and when Helena dealt her own blows, she took care to revert back to a defensive stance more quickly; Sara smirked when she got better at it.

Helena spun in her spot, aiming the _bō_ at Sara's head; she knew her partner would duck, and try and kick her legs from under her as she crouched. Helena jumped when the wood came sweeping at her shins, intending to land a blow in that split-second of shifting stances Sara had caught her in so many times.

But the Canary, of course, was a master of her craft, and Helena's staff only met wood on its way down. Still, Sara grinned. "You almost had me," she praised.

" _Almost_ ," Helena emphasized, preparing to strike again, only to pause when the tower began filling with the sounds of vibration against concrete, and some obnoxious bird song. "Your ringtone is the sound of chirping _birds_?" she let out.

Sara only threw a quick grin over her shoulder in response, already moving to take the call. Helena gathered it was Sin calling with news – or lack thereof. There wasn't much said on Sara's part during the conversation, only a few words and some humming, but Helena noticed her furrowed brow; evidently, the news were different from what she had expected.

"Okay," Sara said eventually. "I'll call you back."

"So?" Helena prompted once she hung up.

Sara clucked her tongue. "Thea wants to meet with us," she informed. "Talk to us face-to-face."

Well, that was certainly not how Helena had envisioned this going down. "So much for her not wanting to talk to us _willingly_ , I guess," she commented.

"Hmm," Sara agreed absentmindedly, staring down at her phone.

"Something else you'd like to share?"

"No." Sara shook her head. "It's just that...I haven't actually _spoken_ to Thea since she was a kid. She was twelve when Oliver and I boarded the Gambit." She let out a soft chuckle. "Little Speedy."

"Speedy?" Helena echoed dryly.

"Oliver used to call her that all the time," Sara said, sounding a little wistful. Her eyes dropped to the ground as she added, "Tommy did, too."

_Ah, Tommy Merlyn_. "I broke his wrist once."

Sara raised an eyebrow; Helena shrugged. "Oliver wasn't being cooperative."

Pursing her lips, Sara said, "Well, just refrain from breaking _anyone's_ bones if Thea isn't cooperative either."

"Don't worry, I'm reformed now," Helena waved her concerns off. "Partially, anyway."

Sara only shook her head.


	6. Chapter Six

_Chapter Six_

 

The back alley of what used to be a kindergarten was scarcely lit, and smelled like something had died there about ten times over.

Not that Thea had expected otherwise from this part of the Glades.

She stuffed her hands in her coat's pockets, letting her eyes skim the skyline one more time; there were several five or six story buildings within her sights, making for black shadows against the night sky and the one, barely functioning streetlight.

"Chill, Queen," Sin told her, from where she was half-propped against a dumpster – something that Thea, frankly, considered to be unsanitary accommodations. "They'll be here."

Pulling air through her nose, Thea tried to rein in on her nerves. She wasn't scared, or really all that nervous, but she was wired with anticipation, and her muscles felt as taut as one of her old bowstrings.

"You said that ten minutes ago," she remarked, sparing her friend a glance over her shoulder; Sin rolled her eyes. A second later, they widened.

Thea whipped her head back around, following Sin's line of sight, her eyes drawn back to the sharp lines of the blackened rooftops – except, there were two shapes standing out against the sky now, too.

They split after a moment, one going for the rusted pipes that ran down along the building's façade; the other just leaped over the edge.

Thea's breath caught when the woman began falling through the air; the building was too high to jump off of, even –

Then, she realized the woman wasn't falling though the thin air at all; she was rolling down a long streak of shimmery, dark fabric, right up to the moment when she landed on the ground in a crouch.

"Oh, that is way cool," Sin let out, and Thea had to admit, it was sort of...fascinating. Beautiful, too. Striking.

Next to the woman, her companion made her own landing, having slid down the drainage pipes.

Both rose slowly, stepping closer, and Thea found herself gripping the insides of her pockets in her hands.

When they were within the reach of the lone streetlight, Thea's eyes went over them both, settling on the woman that was familiar to her.

"Hi, Thea," Helena Bertinelli said, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "It's been a while."

She had known of the Huntress, of course – of who Helena really was. She had never seen her in the role, though, not with her own eyes. There were patches of purple in the black leather she wore, and her matching black mask framed her eyes so that, even in the dim lighting, they stood out a cold blue; her lips were painted a very deep red and, Thea noted, there was a crossbow secured at her hip, peeking out from beneath her coat.

"Hmm," Thea agreed. "Guess that's what happens when you get caught trying to kill your father and have to make a run for it."

Helena's mouth pulled at the corners, into a crooked grin. "Well, that's all done with now," she told her.

Thea took that to mean that Frank Bertinelli wasn't among the living anymore. She faintly recalled, now that her memory was jogged, a news report buzzing in the background of Verdant, about a body found in Edge City and who it was. The Huntress had, evidently, gotten her prey.

Who just so happened to be her own father.

Not that Thea couldn't sympathize with a lack of love for fathers.

She turned her eyes to the woman next to Helena, and frowned; the woman was watching her, and even with a black mask obscuring her face, the piercing blue eyes held familiarity, though Thea couldn't quite place it.

Instead of dwelling on it, she said, "I take it you're Sin's friend."

The woman smiled faintly at that, her eyes flickering to Thea's right for a moment; following her gaze, she found that Sin was smiling back – and looked a little too excited by all of this.

"That's me," the woman said next, and her voice, much like the way her eyes had gone over her, prickled at the back of Thea's mind; it rang distinctive to her ears, and she swore she'd heard it before.

Which was a ridiculous idea.

"So," Thea prompted, "what do I call you? 'Sin's friend' is kind of a mouthful."

The woman's lips pressed together, like she might be stifling a smile, and it struck Thea again just how much it felt like she had seen the woman before.

"A lot of people call me Canary."

Thea raised an eyebrow, eyes cutting from one woman to the other. "So, you're the Huntress...and the Canary?" she reiterated, a bad joke about bird-hunting season on the tip of her tongue.

"So cool," Sin breathed out, making Thea shake her head. _Way too excited about all of this_.

"Well, now that that's out of the way," Helena spoke up, "let's move on to what we came here for."

Thea straightened on instinct, her hands curling into fists again.

"Right," she said. "Sin said you were interested in Malcolm Merlyn. Why?"

Helena shook her head. "Come on, Thea," she chided. "You know that's not how this works."

"I'm not telling you _anything_ ," Thea fired back, "until I know why you're asking."

That earned her a cautioning little head-quirk from the Huntress, like she was warning her not to push her luck; Thea only squared her shoulders.

"You're tough," Helena commented next, her mouth twitching at the corner. "Malcolm Merlyn must be so proud of his little daughter."

Thea stilled, before whipping her head towards Sin; the latter raised her hands in surrender. "I didn't say anything about that," she denied quickly.

"It's not really a well-kept secret," Helena said. "Especially when you're getting kidnapped by the Dark Archer and the Arrow tries to rescue you." She clucked her tongue. "Being the daughter of the man who destroyed this city, now that is – "

"Helena," the Canary hissed under her breath, cutting the other woman's taunts off. The Huntress spared her companion an annoyed look, before pursing her lips and rolling her eyes.

The Canary's gaze stayed on her for a moment longer, before she turned to Thea. "We do know," she said, "about Merlyn's reasons for taking you, and we won't tell anyone who doesn't already know too. What we don't really know is why he left without you."

Thea's heart picked up speed at the reminder of what it had been like, being face-to-face with her dear father. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. "Why?" she asked again. "Why do you want to know?"

The other woman's eyes narrowed a fraction behind her mask, and Thea thought that her tone might have been a little too telling, betraying her real question.

"We're not going to kill him," the Canary told her quietly. "That's not our purpose with him. But there is... _someone_ , who does want him dead." Licking her lips, she added, "Someone he would be afraid of."

Thea frowned. "Who? The Arrow?"

The Canary shook her head.

Helena actually snorted.

"Then who?" Thea prompted.

She didn't get an answer right away, and the Canary looked reluctant to give her a straight one. "There are people," she eventually hedged, "people he was involved with, who taught him how to be...the Dark Archer. And they're not exactly pleased with what he's done."

Thea mulled that over. It made sense, she supposed. That there would be someone who had taught Merlyn how to be what he was – someone who was _better_ than him. Someone who could defeat him.

And it should have felt good, to know that, but any glimmer of satisfaction was squashed when she realized she didn't just want _someone_ to defeat him. _I want to defeat him_ , the thought ran through her mind. _He's mine to defeat_.

She shook her head to rid herself of the thought, and said, "So, are the two of you their PI's or something?"

"No," the Canary said quietly, "we need to know if they're already here."

"You're running from them, too," Thea concluded when it clicked. "Who are they?"

"It doesn't matter," the Canary deflected. "It's too dangerous for you to know everything."

Thea huffed. "I am _so_ tired," she let out, "of everyone else deciding what _I_ need protecting from."

"I'm not saying this because I think you need to be protected, Thea," the Canary told her, and somehow, it reminded her of when she was eleven or twelve, trying to slide down the rail of the mansion's staircase, and Sara Lance was chiding her, not for being reckless, but for being so when her parents could easily walk in on her.

"But these people, they're dangerous," the Canary went on, bringing her out of the weird sense of déjà-vu. "To anyone. They're unlike anything you've seen."

Thea pursed her lips. "I've seen a lot."

It seemed to make the other woman soften, and eventually, she nodded. "I know," she said quietly.

And there it was again, Thea thought, that weird sense of familiarity.

"I'd just like to point out," Helena interjected, "that we came here for an _exchange_ of information. So far, this feels pretty one-sided."

Thea took a deep breath, then nodded. "I don't actually know why he just left," she said. "He was saying something about...the Arrow, and fighting and killing him, and – " She shrugged. "He said the Arrow was coming and left me in the room, and then...I don't know how long it was, a while, but next thing I know, it's the Arrow who's coming through the door." She shook her head. "He didn't find Malcolm on his way in."

The Canary was nodding along, and when Thea was done, she asked, "Did he say something to you? Merlyn, I mean. Something that sounded...strange?"

"Well, he's a complete psycho, so..."

"Right," the blonde conceded. "Just...tell me what you remember. It might seem like nothing to you, but it could be important."

"He just – kept talking about how he was my father, and how – " The words were sour on her tongue as she did her best to force them out, without gagging from the sickening feeling in her gut that sifting through the memories caused. "How his mistake with...with Tommy, was not including him in his mission, and that now he'd get a second chance with me, it was – " She blew out a breath. "That's all he talked about."

The other three were quiet for a while after that, and even Helena looked like she didn't have much desire for taunting anymore.

Eventually, she was the one who queried, "What did he say exactly, before leaving you alone?"

The Canary seemed intrigued by the question, while Thea frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Did he say the Arrow was coming soon, that he was already there?" she clarified. "Or that he was going to wait for him?"

"Why, what are you thinking?" her partner asked.

"I'm thinking he knew someone was there," Helena said, "and he thought it was the Arrow, but..." She turned to Thea. "You said it was a while before he showed up, and that Malcolm was already gone when he did." She shrugged, craning her head to the side to meet the Canary's eyes. "I'm thinking he did find someone on his way out, but it wasn't the Arrow."

They were having some sort of silent conversation after that, and Thea waited impatiently to be let it on it. When she wasn't, she prompted, "So? What does that mean?"

The Canary chewed on her lip for a moment longer, before bringing her eyes to Thea's again. "It means they might already have him," she said. "But considering...his skills, it's more likely that whoever they sent is dead and disposed of, and that Merlyn ran before more could come for him."

Thea pulled in a sharp breath. "So, you think he's still alive?"

"Yeah."

It shouldn't have made her feel relieved to hear that, Thea thought. But it did. If he wasn't dead, then –

Then that meant he could _still_ be defeated.

The Canary took a step forward, coming all that closer, and Thea found herself staring at the woman's face. "We will keep looking," she said, "and when we know for sure, I'll have Sin tell you what we found."

Thea nodded quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Thank you."

"I should be thanking you," the Canary told her, "for agreeing to this." The black mask she wore was cut out in sharp lines, making its wearer seem dangerous, and just a little deadly, but her eyes held a surprising amount of warmth as they went over Thea's face, and the latter couldn't help but think the look she was getting was strangely – proud, maybe? Or perhaps it leaned more towards wistful?

Either way, it was strange.

"I'll keep in touch," the Canary directed her next words to Sin, before giving them both a nod of farewell. Behind her, Helena did the same, and with that, they were walking away, until they had both blended with the shadows.

Thea watched them go, drawing a deep, cleansing breath.

She felt Sin's hand on her arm. "You good?"

Nodding resolutely, she said, "Yeah."

Sin gave her a small smile, draping a hand over her shoulders. "Come on," she told her as she began steering her back towards the street and the car they'd parked there. Thea let herself be led by her friend, thinking about the other two women, and just how much it felt like she had known the Canary before, and most of all, she thought about how she really, really wanted Malcolm Merlyn to be alive.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"So, what do you really think?" Helena asked, shrugging off her coat and pulling off her mask. "Is there a dead League of Assassins member somewhere in Starling, or is Ra's al Ghul dancing on Merlyn's grave in – actually, I have no idea where your old clubhouse is."

"Nanda Parbat," Sara replied absentmindedly from her position by the broken clock face.

"Right, good to know," Helena muttered, making her way to Sara's side. "So, what's the verdict, Birdie?"

Her question was met with a deep sigh. "I meant what I told Thea," Sara eventually said. "I do think he's still alive. Malcolm, he was...trained by both Ra's and Al-Owal – 'The First', he was Ra's second-in-command." Pursing her lips, she added, "Al-Owal is dead, so there are only two people left that could take on Malcolm and defeat him – in a fight that meets their code. One of them is Ra's al Ghul, and the other is..."

It seemed difficult for her to say it, so Helena filled in for her; she was getting good at figuring out what tone Sara reserved for each person from her past she spoke of. "His daughter," she said.

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "And if either of them had been here, they wouldn't have come and gone so quietly."

"So, you think a foot soldier or two were sent here, they fought Merlyn, and that was the end of the road for them?"

Sara nodded.

"Shouldn't that be good news?" Helena asked. "Because you don't exactly look happy."

"He still ran," Sara pointed out quietly. "Disappeared without Thea."

"Well, he knew more would be coming for him, right? Dragging Thea kicking and screaming with him would slow him down."

"Mm-hmm," Sara hummed. "But the question is, why would he have to run so fast?"

Helena blew out a breath. "So, you think Ra's, or his daughter, or their entire army, are still headed over here?"

"I think – " She licked her lips. "I think there's a good chance, yeah."

That was a cheery thought. "What now?"

"We should check out the place Thea was held at," Sara said. "See if there's something Oliver or the cops missed."

"Shouldn't be difficult to find something that meets that criteria," Helena commented dryly, getting her partner to crack a small smile.

"And if it turns out that one or all of them really are coming here," she added more quietly, "what then?"

Sara was quiet, pulling in deep breaths in silence. In the end, she shrugged. "I don't know," she admitted. "But I don't want to run unless I have to."

Helena had expected nothing less.

 

 

* * *

 

 

" _The hostage crisis at Starling National Bank in the East Glades has just entered its tenth hour_ – "

Felicity kept her eyes resolutely on the source code of the upgrade she was doing for QC's servers, telling herself that the news anchorwoman's report coming from Diggle's TV was just left there as background noise while she worked. Which was –

" – _the SCPD has yet to successfully negotiate with the robbers, and unconfirmed reports suggest that they have begun killing hostages_ – "

– a complete lie.

With a sigh, Felicity peeked over her laptop, and to the flat screen that alternated between images of the newscaster and live footage from the scene. There were barricades, and a SWAT team on standby, and the red-and-blue swirls of patrol cars and the blasting flashes of an overhead chopper, and every now and then, just on the edge of the frame, Felicity caught a glimpse of Detective Lance.

He hadn't called her.

Actually, she had almost called _him_. Early in the afternoon, when it had all started, Diggle had dropped by to keep her company for lunch at IT, and she had already begun reaching for her phone, only to be stopped in her tracks by John's pointed look. _It's not what we do anymore, Felicity_ , he'd said, a little sadly, and she'd retracted her hand with a nod. She'd forgotten, for a second there, that Team Arrow wasn't in business anymore.

The one thing that she was sure would never change, though, was Sara Lance refusing to use doors.

She couldn't help but smile at the ping that came from her second laptop, signaling that the motion sensors on the balcony had been triggered and sending a video feed of the 'intruder'.

Felicity waited for Sara to make her way in, only speaking when she'd already stepped past the balcony's threshold. "Wouldn't it just be easier to use the door?" she asked, craning her head over her shoulder to track Sara's movements.

"Nope," the other woman said, with a silly sort of playful smile Felicity hadn't been treated to before; she grinned in response.

Sara plopped onto the couch next to her, and added, "Besides, you'd be disappointed if I made such a boring entrance."

"True," Felicity agreed, taking a moment to appreciate the way Sara's resulting smile made her dimples show. "So, what's up?"

With a quiet sigh, Sara began plucking at the wig she held in her lap. "Helena and I met with Thea last night," she said quietly. "To talk about Merlyn."

Felicity frowned. "Wha – why?"

"There's only one thing that would make him run the way he did, Felicity." She shook her head. "And it's not Oliver."

Biting her lip, Felicity asked, "You think the League found him?"

"Yeah. But I also think that the one who found him is dead now." She clucked her tongue. "Which means more will be coming."

Felicity really didn't like the implications of that. "So, what does that mean," she asked, "for you?"

"I'm – " She shrugged. "Not as scared as I should be."

"You're not leaving, then?"

"No," Sara said, "not yet anyway." She sighed. "Helena and I went to where he had Thea...we found a gem, Ollie and the cops missed it, it's – it belonged to someone I knew in the League." A small frown creased her brow as she added, "She was finishing her training when I was starting mine. We, uh – we did several missions together, actually, after I had sworn my own oath."

"I'm...sorry?" Felicity tried, not quite knowing if she should be offering condolences or not.

"Don't be," Sara told her. "Part of swearing the oath is being willing to die, being... _ready_ to die."

"That doesn't sound like something you'd accept," Felicity remarked quietly; if anything, Sara struck her as someone who had done, and would do, anything to _stay_ alive.

"Well, I broke _my_ oath, didn't I?" Sara said. "I'm always the rebel, wherever I go."

Felicity cracked a smile at that.

After a short-lived smile of her own, Sara frowned again, dropping her gaze to her lap; Felicity watched her trace the outlines of her mask with her fingers for a while, before asking, "So, if you're okay with the death of your former assassin buddy, then what's bothering you?"

Sara chewed on her lip for a moment, then shrugged. "Seeing Thea," she admitted. "Talking to her. I saw her, when Sin was in the hospital, but it was just – it was just for a minute." She drew a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. "The last time I _really_ saw her, she was still little twelve-year-old Speedy, running around after Ollie. And now, she's all grown up." When she looked up, Felicity saw that her eyes were shining with gathering tears. "It really hit me, seeing her, just how long I've been away from home."

Felicity reached out, covering Sara's hand with hers; her nose twitched in a sniffle Felicity barely heard, and eventually, she squeezed back.

"You're home _now_ ," Felicity whispered, but Sara shook her head.

"No, I'm not," she said. "Only my dad knows I'm even alive, I'm...lurking in the shadows, wondering when I'll have to run again. I'm not really home."

Feeling a few tears prickling at her own eyes, Felicity twined their fingers together. There wasn't much she could say, or do, to make this better, but Sara seemed to appreciate the gesture nevertheless. One corner of her mouth lifted into a small smile as she kept her eyes on their hands, and lightly began tapping each of Felicity's brightly-painted nails with the pad of her thumb. Felicity surmised it was the striking yellow shade of nail polish she had chosen that made Sara's smile widen, showing her dimples again, and crinkling the corners of her eyes. The last time she'd had that look, Felicity thought, was when she called her cute.

She wasn't talking now, though – not to call her cute again, or to elaborate on the Merlyn situation, or even to ask for a favor or something. She was just quiet, amusing herself with Felicity's fingers, and the latter realized that she probably hadn't had much of a _reason_ to drop by. She had to admit, she was fond of the idea that Sara was only there for the pleasure of her company.

" _It has now been confirmed that one of the hostages was shot to death in the attempted bank robbery in the East Glades_ – "

Felicity whipped her head towards the TV, her breath catching in her throat.

Beside her, Sara stiffened, having obviously gone on alert. She still kept quiet, though, as Felicity drank in the images on the screen and felt her eyes filling with a different kind of tears.

"If Oliver hadn't left," Felicity found herself saying, "this would have been over by now." She shook her head. "Sometimes I forget that he wasn't always here, you know? That the city went by without us saving the day."

And it was killing her, to just sit by and watch.

She felt the pressure of Sara's hand on her own. "What I told you before, about me and Helena being around," she said, "that's still true."

Slowly, Felicity brought her eyes to Sara's.

It was still a completely crazy idea.

But people were dying.

And even before she was done playing mental catch-up with the idea of working with the Huntress, her mind was already sifting through the possible courses of action, the best and worse case scenarios, the optimal ways to avoid collateral damage, what databases she would need to access for the blueprints and which of the city's grids she'd have to hack in order to play the eye in the sky.

Digg wasn't going to like this.

But in the end, she was nodding her agreement.


	7. Chapter Seven

_Chapter Seven_

 

"You really need to start asking me before offering my services to everyone."

Helena Bertinelli's annoyed voice reached her ears even before her eyes could make out her silhouette against the dim lighting of Verdant's back alley, and Felicity's stiff back tensed further where she stood next to Sara – whose willingness to make offers in both their names her new partner didn't seem to appreciate.

"A text telling me to come here doesn't really cut it," The Huntress added once she was out of the shadows, her eyes cutting over Felicity; the latter clutched her bag tighter.

There was a beat, where Sara spared Helena a look that appeared to carry some unspoken meaning, before she said, "We don't have much time. They've already begun killing people."

Helena pursed her lips. "So, tell me," she prompted dryly, "what _exactly_ can I do for Starling City tonight?"

She didn't get her answer right away, and Felicity belatedly realized Sara had turned to her, expecting _her_ to take over. And the words just got stuck in her throat.

She had done this a thousand times over, run point on missions, but her footing wasn't even anymore; she could cling to Sara for familiarity but Helena was the break in the pattern, the unknown variable, and Felicity fumbled, because this wasn't her team; these weren't John and Oliver, flanking her sides and falling in step with her as she talked about points of entry and contingency plans.

"Felicity?" Sara called to her, still waiting.

_Just imagine they're Digg and Oliver_ , she told herself. _Imagine it's the same as it used to be_.

She closed her eyes, counted to three; John would stand right where Helena was, serious but expectant, waiting for her to run the situation by him so his strategist's mind could filter through it, and Oliver would probably be out of sight by now, reaching for the leather and the bow. _Talk to me, Felicity_.

"There are five of them," she spoke, blinking her eyes open, "from what I could see. They cut the camera feeds going in, but they weren't fast enough on one of them. There's five robbers, ten hostages – " She gulped, amending it to, "Well, nine now, including the bank's employees."

Helena's face was impassive, her eyes going to Sara for a moment. Eventually, she clucked her tongue. "So...what's the plan?"

It was unnerving, Felicity thought. _She_ was unnerving.

She motioned for the two women to follow her, to the foundry's secondary entrance, and felt the pain in her still-healing wrist flare up. A year or so ago, it was Helena who had bound her wrists together, made them ache afterward; this time around, she had been the one to break the cuffs on her hand, and now, she was going to help her get nine strangers out of their own binds. And all of that, Felicity was pretty sure, was because of Sara.

She punched in the code, pulling the metal door open when the system beeped, and fumbled again when she was met with complete darkness. Even after they had clocked out for the night, there used to always be some light in the basement, be it the dim glow of her computers or the few energy-saving overhead lights they left on, even after they had shut down the ones in the main area; it was all dark now, though.

She'd forgotten about that.

Clearing her throat, she fished for her phone, all the while aware of the two leather-clad women at her back; she was fairly confident they were having some sort of silent conversation with their eyes again behind her.

She had her phone in hand and the flash on eventually, letting it provide the light they'd need to get to the main switch.

It was so quiet. Even her flats echoed against the floor in the silence.

Felicity sped up her steps, just to get to the switch faster, just to chase away the cold feeling in her chest at seeing her home as empty and as eerie as a ghost house.

She pushed the lever up, breathing in deeply when the lights blinked and flickered, before they were finally shining through the space; it made her feel warmer, safer, and she nearly skipped over to her computers, turning them on.

This was her home.

And as soon as she was in her chair, the words were just pouring out. "I uploaded everything I dug up before on a cloud, so we'll have it here in a minute, and now I can get heat signature readings and get into the PD's scanner to see what they're doing, and I'm pulling up the live feed from the scene right now – "

The trusty keyboard under her fingers felt so lovely she only barely refrained from taking a moment to just hug it to her chest, but that would mean she would have to pause in her keystrokes which was just not happening any time soon. Her monitors were filling with all the data she was pulling up; a few clicks and one was showing the news reports, the second an infrared streaming of her go-to NSA satellite alongside real-time transcripts of the police scanner – a nifty upgrade of her own design – and the third was displaying schematics.

She knew she was grinning when she whirled her chair around, and for a moment, just one, it was Diggle and Oliver who stood under the fluorescent lights, all serious frowns broken by proud smiles; she blinked, and it was two pairs of blue eyes behind black masks staring back at her.

"You okay?" Sara asked softly.

"Um, yeah." She cleared her throat. "So – " she spun back to her screens – "the heat signatures show there are three additional robbers, one on each point of entry. The hostages are all here – " she pointed to the stationary red-and-yellow blurbs – "and there are still nine of them, so that's good. This one here," she added more quietly, gesturing to the completely unmoving, fading signature, "is the one they killed."

"What sort of weapons do they have?" Sara prompted.

"Based on what the PD reported, they've got some major firepower. Military riffles, definitely black market stuff and – excuse me, what are you doing?"

She turned to Helena sharply, where the other woman was apparently perusing Diggle's gun collection at her leisure.

"Actually, I was looking for the ammo." Helena turned her back to her, lifting her coat away to show her the two holstered guns that rested neatly at her lower back, and grinned over her shoulder. "But," she added, letting the black leather fall back into place, "this is quite the collection you have here." She moved along the shelves, letting her gloved fingers skim the casings, until one particular label seemed to have caught her eye. "A rocket launcher?" she threw over her shoulder. "Really?"

Felicity gritted her teeth. "Don't touch that."

Helena's crooked grin slipped, eyes narrowing behind the mask. She raised her hands up and away next, as if to say she was complying with her orders.

"Anything about that SWAT team moving in?" she inquired dryly, trekking back to the computers. "I wouldn't want them to get in our way."

Pulling in a deep breath, Felicity turned to her second monitor. "They're still on standby," she said. "Mostly because they have no way of going in without being seen – downsides of pretty glass walls, I guess. The robbers have a lookout at all three entry points besides the main door," she reiterated, flicking her good wrist to gesture towards the blurbs of the men in question, "so they'd see a SWAT team coming from a mile away. And they've already made it clear that they mean business, so the PD doesn't want to risk it. They're still trying negotiations."

"I don't think it's working," Helena remarked.

"So, how do _we_ get in?" it was Sara who asked, and Felicity was grateful she had joined the conversation again; as long as she focused on Sara, she could feel more like she was back where she belonged, and less like she was scraping together a poor imitation of her old team.

"The vents," she informed, bringing up the schematics for the location on full screen. "The ventilation shafts go all the way up to the roof, which is _your_ point of entry." She shrugged. "I figured you'd manage the acrobatics."

Sara smiled at that. "Good," she said. "So, we take out the outliers, then move on to the other five?"

"That's the plan," Felicity agreed. " _But_ ," she stressed, "no killing them."

Sara's smile slipped at that clause, her eyes dropping down and away, but in the end, she was nodding her compliance.

Her partner, on the other hand, didn't seem eager to play ball.

"No killing them?" Helena echoed. "Why? _They_ didn't have any problems with killing hostages."

Felicity whirled back on her. "We're not them."

Helena's eyes narrowed. " _We_?" she practically spat back. "I'm not part of your little clubhouse, and the only reason I'm here is because Oliver abandoned you and you need someone to play hero."

She definitely knew how to choose her words, Felicity thought. To make sure they hurt.

"No actually, I'm not sure _why_ I'm here," Helena amended. "Why didn't you just call Diggle and leave me out of this?"

Felicity wanted to fire back, to put all of her heart into a comeback, but all that came out instead was a mumbled, "Digg's working."

"Helena," Sara issued a quiet warning, making her partner's eyes cut over to her. "We can take them on without killing them," she said, like it was final.

That didn't sit well with Helena, evidently, because her lip curled at the corner; she schooled her expression the next moment, leaving her features suitably blank. "Fine," she agreed flatly. "Anything else before we go?"

Felicity turned to her desk, grabbing for the box that held the earpieces while keeping her head down, because there were tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. She grabbed the devices, handing two for Sara to take; she reached out to take them but held on to Felicity's hand for a moment. "Are you gonna be okay?" she asked quietly. "With your hand?"

Nodding quickly, Felicity said, "Yeah, I'll be fine."

"Okay." Sara looked like she might want to say something else, something comforting, but Felicity shook her head and motioned for her to go. With a light squeeze of her hand, she did, moving away to hand Helena her own piece. Felicity watched their retreating backs, letting her eyes linger even after the door had slammed back shut behind them.

She was home again, but it was all wrong. The hum of her computers and the static in her earpiece were there, drumming with familiarity, but John's untraceable Glock 17 he took out in the field was still tucked away on the shelf, and Oliver's green leather and the bow she'd had made for him still sat in their glass cases, untouched.

Her home was a ghost house anyway.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"We're here," Sara spoke into her comm. "Going in."

Helena gestured towards the open hatch with all the flourish she could muster. "After you."

The ride to Starling National Bank had been relatively short, what with Sara spurring the bike down the emptier roads and disregarding speed limits, though they'd had to cover the last block on foot, to avoid being noticed by the swarm of cops at the front. The overhead chopper was another impediment; scaling the building up to the roof and infiltrating the ventilation system without being noticed was a little tricky when helicopter lights were blaring over your head.

Sara spared her a glance before lowering herself into the square space, a low thump signaling her feet had hit the metal below. Helena waited a moment before following suit; flattening herself against the cold ducts took a moment, especially as she had to adjust the placement of her crossbow before rolling over on her stomach. She got herself in position, facing away from Sara's direction, blowing stray stands of hair out of her face as she asked, "Where to now?"

" _Two of the entrances are on the east side, so Sara, you'll want to crawl right ahead then take two lefts_ ," Felicity's voice sounded in her ear, slightly distorted, " _and Helena, you're taking the south entrance so take your first right, and then the second left after that._ "

"Copy that," Helena muttered, using her elbows to prop herself forward in the cramped space.

" _I'm monitoring the feeds_ ," Felicity spoke again, " _and your bad guys are right where they should be. After you take down your two, Sara, you'll be coming into the main lobby from the left. Helena, you'll be coming from the right._ "

Well, bright and peppy Felicity Smoak certainly knew how to play the hell out of the eye in the sky.

Helena followed the path she was given, maneuvering herself around the right corner then crawling past the first left shaft, stopping at the second; the duct stood at an angle, leading down to a sealed grate. Beyond it, Helena presumed, was her prey.

"I'm here," she informed, rolling around until she had pushed her lower body into the shaft legs-first and plastered her hands against the juncture between the ducts, keeping herself from slipping downward just long enough to add, "Going in."

She let go, sliding down until her boots had hit the grate, propelling it through the air as her body followed; she landed in a half-crouch, hand braced against the ground, and right there, just a few steps away, was her target.

She grinned up at him. "Hi."

He was quick to recover from his surprise, turning his rifle on her; he hadn't even secured the strap across his chest, which just made her job so much easier. She sprung forward, pushing the weapon out of his hands with a kick of her foot, and aiming a fist at his face in the same movement; he blocked her punch.

There was more to his strikes than just crude, brutish strength, and Helena surmised he'd had training – military, by the looks of it – prior to pursuing a career in bank heisting. He deflected her blows, tried a swing at her head which she ducked, and a roundhouse kick which she sidestepped; she tried to find an opening, for a sharp jab to the throat, but her blocked all her attempts. It was starting to annoy her.

He grabbed her hair, wrapping it around his fist tightly enough that she growled, and tried to push her face into the nearest wall; she brought her legs up, bracing her feet against the toneless wallpaper, using the shift in momentum to headbutt him from behind, smashing the back of her head against his face. His hands fell away and while he still reeled back, she swept at his shins, kicked his legs from under him, then grabbed his throat as he fell, going down with him until he hit the hard ground with a thud and a crack. She replaced her hand with her forearm, pushing down on his windpipe, just as she jabbed a knee into his gut.

"Don't pull a girl's hair," she told him. "We don't like it."

He gurgled something back, his hands coming up to paw at her but lacking the leverage to do any damage, and she kept her position even as his face reddened, hovering over him.

" _Don't kill him!_ "

It was practically a shriek in her ear, and she gritted her teeth; bright and peppy Felicity Smoak was also annoying.

She didn't lessen the pressure though, even when Felicity repeated herself, watching the red on the man's face slowly turn blue.

Then, it was Sara's voice in her ear.

" _Helena_."

Just one word. Just saying her name. She did that a lot.

And it was amazing how much she managed to convey. Helena had never thought anyone would be capable of fitting ' _let's pretend we didn't kill a hundred men between us and give Saint Felicity what she wants_ ' just within the three syllables of her name.

Well.

Never let it be said she wasn't a good partner.

"Fine," she said, and punched the man to knock him out.

 

 

* * *

 

 

" _Second one down, moving to the lobby_."

_About time_ , Helena thought, reaching behind for her guns. She'd been in position, lurking behind a corner, for a solid five minutes, just twiddling her thumbs.

" _I'm here_ ," Sara spoke again, quieter this time. " _I've got eyes on them_."

" _Okay, so take them out quickly – preferably before they open fire_ ," Felicity told them. After a beat, she added, " _And no kill-shots_."

That, Helena assumed, was for her benefit. Rolling her eyes, she said, "Don't worry, I'll go for the shoulder."

She peeked from around the corner, assessing the robbers' position; the nine hostages were huddled in a group on the ground, with three of the perps circling them, while the other two men stood in positions that offered them a clear view of the entire lobby, stationed at opposite ends. _Definitely former military_.

She could get clear shots on four of them, in a matter of seconds, but the fifth one would call for a shift in her position to take aim – which would give him time to pull on his own trigger, even with the distraction they had planned. So, he was all Sara's.

"The one behind the counter is for you, little bird," she said. "I've got the rest."

She knew Sara was rolling her eyes at the name, even as she muttered an affirmative, " _Copy that_."

And now for a little bird song.

Helena braced herself for it, even though she'd had its tune in her ears a dozen times over. A second later, they were ringing with the high-pitch again, and the sound of raining, breaking glass – and some howls of pain, too.

She moved from her hiding place, guns at the ready and taking her aim, fingers on the triggers.

One, two – three and four over the hostages' head, and –

The fifth one fell down, too, with what looked to Helena like a broken arm.

She kept her weapons up for a moment, taking in the place; it was oddly quiet now, without the noise and gunshots, while some of the robbers writhed on the ground and a few of the hostages whimpered. Helena looked them over, noting they appeared to be more frightened than injured – which could not also be said of the tenth hostage, of course, where he was sprawled lifelessly a little ways down from the rest of the group.

The bullet wound in his forehead told her his death had been quick and probably painless. Not that there were any good ways to die; some people just didn't get the courtesy of being spared from it – didn't deserve it either, sometimes. Helena couldn't say if the dead man had belonged to the former or the latter.

She looked over to Sara, whose eyes were scanning the space as well, in a similar assessment; Helena didn't know if her thoughts lingered more on the living or on the dead, as her own had.

There was no mistaking what Felicity's thoughts were on, though.

" _Are the hostages okay?_ " her question echoed in both their earpieces.

"Yeah," Sara confirmed.

There was a little sound, like a sigh of relief, from Felicity before she said, " _Okay, good. Also, you may want to get out of there. The PD are coming in_."

Helena's eyes cut over to the front of the lobby, and the doors beyond it, which were now reflecting the bouncing spots of flashlights, while the absence of the glass barriers only made the sound of the SWAT team's thudding footsteps and shouted commands louder.

She turned to Sara again, nodding towards the blown-off glass panels to their right; holstering her guns again, she moved for Sara, grabbing her hand as she went, and kept running until they had both jumped through the hole in the wall and onto the street; it was an alleyway between the bank and the building next door, somewhat hidden from the main street and the PD's set-up command center.

Sara still paused, and Helena knew she was looking for her father even before the man in question spotted them, pausing in his progress towards the front doors; he didn't say anything but his eyes widened then narrowed, as soon as he saw them – saw _her_.

Not that she had expected different.

She reached for Sara's hand again, pulling her down the alley. She went willingly, only turning her eyes away from the street when she could no longer catch glimpse of her father.

"Felicity," she spoke into her comm a few moments later, "call my father, please. Tell him where he can find us."

_Well_ , Helena thought as they made their way back to Sara's bike, with Felicity's assurances that she would get right on that call. _This is going to be an interesting conversation_.


	8. Chapter Eight

_Chapter Eight_

 

Sara paced a short line next to her bike, against which Helena was leaning, as they waited for her father. Felicity had gotten a hold of him, while his fellow officers were still rounding up the robbers left for them, and related that he'd said to be there shortly.

In truth, Sara was approaching something that felt distinctly like nervousness – not unlike the kind she'd felt a lifetime ago, when introducing her few boyfriends to her father, knowing he wouldn't approve.

Not unlike what she used to feel back then either, was the familiar, defiant desire to also defend her choices to her father. _Always the rebel_.

Helena didn't say much, just waited with her arms banded across her chest, and Sara knew she hadn't particularly enjoyed tonight's developments; she would probably enjoy them even less in a few minutes.

Or seconds.

Sara turned to the sound of approaching steps; her father was coming their way, still in his officer's uniform, and the first words out of his mouth were, " _She's_ the one who came here with you?"

"Dad – "

"Hello, Detective," Helena piped in, drumming her fingers through the air in a small wave. "Oh, wait," she added, "it's just 'Officer' now, isn't it?"

Sara closed her eyes, pulling in a deep breath; when she opened them, it was to the image of her father clenching his jaw, before he turned his sour expression on her. "You're friends with _her_?"

"Yes, Dad, look – "

"D'you even know who she is? What she's done?"

"Better than you do," Helena commented dryly.

"Oh yeah?" her father challenged. "'Cause I heard Frank Bertinelli's dead. Did you tell her about how you murdered your old man?"

Sara hung her head. She counted her breaths – _one, two, three_ – before she looked to Helena, whose own eyes were firmly on her, as she knew they would be; slowly, she shook her head.

Anyone else wouldn't have noticed, the slight thinning of Helena's mouth and the way her eyes flashed with hurt; Sara did, though.

Still, Helena played along. "I don't ask about where she got all the black leather, and she doesn't ask about my father."

As far as lies went, Sara thought, it was a pretty big one on all counts.

Her father let out a small scoff, rolling his eyes. Before he could think of another unflattering comment, Sara asked, "So, how's everything at the bank?"

The complete change in directory earned her a long, scrutinizing look, but eventually, her father was sighing, as he said, "We rounded up all the perps, you made that pretty easy for us. The hostages are pretty shaken up, but...they're okay otherwise." He pursed his lips there, then added, "I take it you worked with Ms. Smoak on this one?"

Sara nodded. "Yeah," she said with a slight smile. "She's really good at this sort of thing."

"Ah well, she's had a lot of practice. Speaking of that" – he spared Helena a sidelong glance – "you _officially_ filling the Arrow's shoes now? 'Cause we really could use more of your help around here, baby."

She wanted to. To stay, to work with Felicity, to have a team of her own; she just wasn't sure Helena shared even a fraction of her enthusiasm. She liked justice, Sara knew that. Just not the kind that came with playing by other people's rules.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Hey."

Felicity spun her chair around, a grin on her face as she commented, "Well, would you look at that – you actually used the door to get in."

Sara returned the smile, though hers was more on the half-hearted side. "You don't have any windows around here," she said. "Kinda forced my hand in the matter."

"Sorry to cramp on your style," Felicity offered her apologies, opening her palm so Sara could drop the two earpieces she held into her hand. As she turned back to stash them back in their box, she asked, "So, where's Helena?"

Sara blew out a deep, long breath. "She, uh...walked home, so to speak. Didn't really want to be around me for a while," she said, shrugging. "So I came here to return both of those" – she gestured towards the open box – "and give her a little time to herself."

Felicity frowned. "That sounds like you had a fight."

"Not in so many words," Sara muttered. "I just...haven't been the best partner tonight."

"Why? Because you told her not to kill people?"

Sara shook her head. "It's not what I told her, so much as how I did it – and why," she said. "And, Felicity, the killing, it's – " She sighed. "She's not Oliver, or Diggle – and neither am I. We're not like your old team."

"I know that."

The words earned her a long, studying look, and she were being honest, it was making her squirm a little. Finally, Sara simply asked, "Do you?"

Felicity looked away. "I did get a little...carried away, for a moment there," she admitted quietly. "It's just – " She shrugged. "I've missed it, you know? My team."

Sara nodded, and Felicity knew she understood. "And it's the only team I've ever had," she added, "so I guess I kinda...wanted to have it back." But that wasn't happening. Not anytime soon. "She wasn't wrong, though – Helena, I mean," she whispered, the tip of her finger tracing along the lid of the little blue box that held the earpieces she had customized herself – for her team. "When she said she was only here because Oliver abandoned us. Because he did." She blew out a breath. "And I know it's not because he doesn't care, or – actually, it's probably because he cares _too_ much, so getting as far away from us as he can makes sense in his head."

"Ollie's problem was never that he didn't love people," Sara said. "It's that he doesn't really know what to do with it."

"Yeah," Felicity agreed. "Anyway, what I'm trying to say here is," she reiterated, "Helena's not my favorite person, but she did make that one good point. And, I'm not too proud to admit that she's not terrible at...you know, 'playing hero' – nearly choking bad guys to death aside. I mean, we did end up saving the day – or night, as it were."

That did make Sara smile just the tiniest bit. "Yeah, we did," she said softly. "Well, I'm...gonna go. Talk to Helena. Do you need a ride to Digg's?"

Felicity shook her head. "Nah. And not just because the ride over here was like, the fifteen most terrifying minutes of my life – note to self: bikes aren't my thing."

"Okay," Sara said, smiling a little wider. "See you around, then. Goodnight."

"Night."

Felicity watched her go, spinning her chair around a few times in the ensuing silence; she took it all in one more time, eyes lingering on a different detail on each spin. The salmon ladder, the paper targets in the corner, the neatly labeled firepower on the shelves, the paper targets in the other corner, the servers, the hood, the training dummies, the monitors, the green-tipped arrows; the compound bow.

She wanted a moment longer down here, just to herself. To say goodbye.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Sara dropped onto the floor of the Clocktower, it was to the sight of Helena in her workout gear, pounding furiously at the boxing bag they'd snatched from a sporting goods store.

She knew her entrance had been noted, though Helena made no move to acknowledge it, so Sara took a moment to take off her mask and wig, and think of the words she wanted to say. In the end, all that she managed was, "I'm sorry."

There was a beat before Helena paused in her punches and whirled around, a little red in the face; Sara couldn't tell how much of it was from exertion, and how much of it was from anger.

"Sorry? For what?" Helena demanded. "Being ashamed of me?"

"I'm not," Sara told her, blowing out a breath. "Helena, I'm not ashamed of you."

"Really? Because tonight, I got to be the crazy psycho killer while you washed your hands clean just so you could keep on being Felicity Smoak's number one girlfriend, and" – she let out a dry chuckle " – that whole 'no killing' thing is just so great, considering how Oliver did things when she first joined him, but that's not even the best part – no, the best part was me spinning some lie to your father just so you wouldn't have to admit that you helped me kill mine!"

"Helena, I – "

"Why do you even keep me around? Because you told me," she raised her voice, "before we came here, you told me that you wouldn't leave me to the wolves, and right now, it feels like that's exactly what you're doing!"

Sometimes, Sara thought, there was an odd sort of innocence to the way that Helena's heart was built; it was black-and-white, love-and-hate, and a lost look in her eyes that belonged more on a little girl than the woman they called The Huntress.

She reminded her of someone else in that way. Someone else she'd left behind and betrayed.

"I don't have a very good track record," Sara eventually said, quietly, "when it comes to hurting and betraying those I care for."

Helena sniffed. "Yeah, well, I don't have a good track record when it comes to _getting_ betrayed by those I care for."

She turned away after that, expelling a ragged breath as she pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. Sara looked away, to the big glass clock face and the city lights that flickered beyond it.

"My father saw me kill someone, last time I was here," she found herself saying. "I told you Al-Owal was dead before, and the thing is, I'm the one who killed him – right here, actually. My father was here, and...he saw me break his neck. And I was" – she shook her head " – so ashamed, I couldn't even look at him. But then he, uh – he told me that it didn't matter, because I'd become a killer to survive and that was all that mattered to him, that I was still alive." She could feel the sting of tears creeping at the corners of her eyes, and gritted her teeth against it. "And it's – it's the truth, I became a killer to stay alive, but it's not...as simple as that. So, what I helped you do, find your father so you could kill him, that's not something my dad would – " She gulped. "I don't think he'd understand that. I couldn't have him know about it. And I'm sorry that I threw you under the bus to keep it from him."

She drew a deep breath before blinking her tears away and turning her eyes away from the clock face; Helena was watching her over her shoulder, kneading her arms with her hands while chewing on her lip. Eventually, she prompted, "And Felicity?"

"Felicity," Sara let out on a chuckle, shaking her head a little. "I like her," she said. "I like the way she thinks. I like working with her."

"And you don't want to shut the door on the Dream Team that's never going to happen," Helena guessed, not a little bitterly.

She wasn't wrong. "I wouldn't say that," Sara hedged. "I think you're growing on her."

Helena huffed. "Well, it's not mutual."

"Really?" Sara challenged. "You weren't even a little bit impressed by how she ran the mission tonight?"

The only answer she got was a glare on Helena's part.

Sara cracked a small smile, but reined in on it as she added, "Whether that comes to something or not, I came here with you." She took a few cautious steps forward, until she could lightly rest her hand on Helena's arm. "And I'm sorry about tonight. But I'm not ashamed of you. You're my partner."

Helena turned, letting Sara's hand fall down over her crossed arms as she faced her; her eyes were big and blue and sad, and her mouth was set in what Sara thought might be a little pout.

"I can't be hurt again," she said.

Sara nodded. "I know."

"You're the first person I...starting trusting, in a long time," Helena went on. "After Oliver. He was the last person I trusted and that...didn't end well. So I can't have that happen again, I just – I can't."

"Okay," Sara said softly, debating for a moment before she brought her other hand up and began to pull Helena in for a tentative hug. She was almost surprised that Helena went willingly, wrapping her arms around her.

Sara smoothed one hand over the back of Helena's head, and held on tight.

 

 

* * *

 

 

This, Felicity thought, was exactly what she'd expected to find when she finally made it back to the apartment: Diggle seated on the couch, with a beer in his hand and a very judgmental look on his face.

"So," he clucked his tongue, "I take it that was you?"

Felicity bit her lip. "Well," she said, making her way over to the couch and plopping down on it, "one third of it was me."

John looked her up and down, then took a swig of his beer. "People are speculating about The Huntress being back in town left and right," he commented. "Some of the hostages recognized her, apparently."

Felicity only nodded; she'd known as much.

"Meanwhile, I was just surprised that no one was getting wheeled out in a body bag with an arrow sticking out of them."

"Well, one of the bad guys came close," Felicity admitted. "But you know, other than that, it wasn't all that bad."

Diggle's response was a very wry look.

"Like yeah, sure, she's really, really mean," Felicity went on, "but it...could've been worse."

"Yes, let's just be happy that it didn't go as badly as it could have," Diggle deadpanned.

She scrunched her nose. "I knew you wouldn't be happy about this."

"Felicity." He sighed. "This isn't about how I feel about it, it's about what we talked about – you know, you just wanting to get back to what we used to do without thinking it through?"

"Yeah, I know," she whispered. "And I did have a moment there, where I sort of cast her and Sara as you and Oliver, but – "

"Wait, _I_ was Helena in this scenario?"

"Not the point, Digg," she said.

He grumbled about it a little, then asked, "So, what is the point?"

"The point is," she reiterated, "I kind of tried to make it the same, you know? Like it was _our_ team getting back together." She shrugged. "But that's not happening. Our team bit the dust."

"Yeah," John agreed quietly.

"And that's what it is," she went on, "but the three of us still did a decent job. And I liked being back in the proverbial saddle either way. It was good – I mean, Helena kinda hates me, and I kinda hate her, but other than that, it was good."

"So, you gonna push for this?" he prompted. "Starling's new crime-fighting team?"

"I don't know," she said. "Maybe? I mean, Sara and Helena, they're already a team – and I know that because they do that thing where they have long conversations with their eyes, and excelling at silent communication is the number one indicator of team-ness." She dropped her eyes to her hands, where she'd curled them in her lap. "Like it was for the three of us."

A moment later, Diggle covered her hands with his own. "I miss it, too, Felicity."

She knew he did. He'd locked up the foundry and hadn't been back since, and he went completely still whenever the news reported a hold-up, or a serial killing, or a rise in drug activity, like he was locking himself in place so he wouldn't rush out to save the day. Because they didn't do that anymore.

He was quitting cold turkey.

And she couldn't bring herself to do the same.

"Yeah," she said. "And you know, I can't just…kick back and not do it anymore, because it was my _thing_ , it was – being down in that dingy, dank basement was my thing." She shrugged. "So maybe, now that Sara and Helena seem to be sticking around, I'll get to butt in on _their_ thing. When they need tech-support."

"You'd never be just tech-support, Felicity," John told her warmly. He waited a beat, then added, "But I guess there's no place for me on that hypothetical team."

"Digg..."

"No, it's okay," he assured her. "I wouldn't want it even if it were on the table. You've got your new thing that you're looking into, and I should...start looking into mine." He clucked his tongue. "Gotta move forward."

"Bodyguard duty not doing it for you anymore?"

"It never did, you know that," he said, smiling when she nodded. "Doing what we did with Oliver, it felt like the first really good thing I did since coming home. And now that it's gone, well...I need to find something else. Can't ever be just a good ol' civilian again." He gave her a knowing look, adding, "Neither of us can."

"So...anything in particular you've been considering?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I'll give Lyla a call...see if A.R.G.U.S. is hiring former soldiers who used to moonlight for a vigilante."

Felicity pursed her lips. "Isn't A.R.G.U.S. kinda shady, though?"

"Well, we operated in the gray, too, didn't we?" he countered, to which she had to concede. "But we'll see," he added, then bumped her shoulder. "I'll always be around if you need me, though."

She grinned, snuggling against him in response; she'd always be there if he called, too, and he knew that. John Diggle was her bestie until the end of time.

They sat in silence, with her head on his shoulder, until he asked, "So, how's your wrist after tonight?"

She dropped her eyes to the wrist in question, rotating in on instinct and cringing as she did so. John shook his head at her. "I'll get you something for that."

There was no point in arguing with him so she didn't protest when he got up, letting her head roll against the back of the couch.

This was bound to happen sooner or later, she thought. They'd both been suspended in motion after the train wreck that was Oliver leaving, and now, they were finally moving again – and there was no going _back_ , not for them.

She wasn't sure if moving forward really would include a new team; the idea was still tempting, and it didn't sound half-as-bad as it used to – especially if she considered tonight's mission as a trial run. There'd been a bump – or a choke, as it were – but she did have to admit that the road to her old team had been paved with many a bump, too; she could adapt. Provided that she was offered a membership card approved by _both_ founding parties, of course.

She'd spent nearly an hour in the foundry earlier, spin-spin-spinning in her chair, and letting go of her old home. And by the end of it, moving on seemed just a little bit easier.

And the bottom line was, Team Arrow was gone. That clubhouse wasn't rising from the ashes again. But maybe there could be another one popping up in its stead. Team 'Little Bird, Trigger-Happy Ex-Mob Princess and Never-Just-Tech-Support Hacker'.

Or something.


End file.
